On the Edge of Wakefulness
by Cabbie Esq
Summary: An alternative universe story about Todd's battle with mental illness. A therapy story, if you will, that takes seriously Todd's claim of abuse at the hands of Peter Manning. The story picks up after Georgie Phillips' murder. The story is graphic, contains adult themes. Thanks for reading again, or... if you're new to the story... welcome to hell.
1. Chapter 1

_Note from Author: This story begins about a month after the events of the hostage-taking at Viki's cabin by Todd Manning. Georgie Phillips was killed. Todd has had a confrontation with Sam Rappaport in the cabana where Sam says he believes Peter Manning raped him. Todd denies it but implies a certain truth Sam takes to heart. Michelle was mentioned on the soap. This is where my story veers off OLTL script. Instead of taking on the fake personality disorder, Todd continues his downward spiral. Circumstances surrounding Georgie Phillips have also been changed. Michelle has become a real character. All characters belong to ABC. Fair use. This story is a re-configuration of my original 2000-2006 story. My website is going down so here is its new home. _

**On the Edge of Wakefulness**

**Chapter 1**

Thomas Todd Manning, owner of the Sun Newspaper, multi-millionaire, and Llanview, Pennsylvania's Great Pariah, looked down at the paperwork he received from his investigator and crumpled them in his hand. Throwing the balled-up paper aside, he walked over to the window of Penthouse 2 and put his hands on the cool window glass, staring vacantly across the city horizon. Unkempt golden-brown hair fell below his shoulders. He wore a black t-shirt with a loose flannel shirt over blue jeans, threads at the knees, all draping his slender frame. Dark circles under his hazel eyes revealed days of no sleep.

Pressing his forehead against the window, he recalled the horrifying series of events that led to Michelle's apparent suicide. Michelle Chant, his sweet friend from Chicago, gone. He slammed a closed fist against the thick glass and bit down hard to quell a cry, biting his lip. He relished the pain, wanted it.

It was the least he deserved.

* * *

Kevin Buchanan, Lead Reporter at the Banner Newspaper, the Sun's rival, and son of the Banner's owner, Viki Carpenter, sat at his desk typing a story about the mysterious Michelle Chant. He had learned about her early in his investigation of the Georgie Phillips murder, back during the time when Kevin was sure Todd was Georgie's killer. According to sources in Chicago, Michelle had disappeared shortly after Todd's 14th birthday, but no one was sure as to what happened to her. Kevin suspected that Todd had either killed her or had done something else ... something equally as vile ... to make her disappear.

Yeah, even at the tender age of fourteen.

However, he needed to do further research before he could publish his suspicions and such research had to wait ... as things had been too hectic lately thanks to the sad resolution of the Phillips murder, a killing solved in a most unorthodox manner: by Todd taking hostages ... threatening to kill them ... if the real killer didn't come forward to clear his name.

Todd plea-bargained to misdemeanor false imprisonment and received a suspended sentence of six months in jail. The Buchanan family was furious about the light sentence, but Hank Gannon, the District Attorney, felt it best considering the reality that if Todd hadn't done what he did, it may have taken months longer to find out that his own daughter, Rachel Gannon, had murdered Georgie Phillips.

Lifting his head, Kevin spotted his mother heading into her office, looking business as usual and in complete control of her life. His mother ... sister to Todd Manning, sometime confidante, and excuse-maker. Well ... not this time. No excuses. Her brother had done something to Michelle, Kevin just knew it. Why else would he still be so unstable and explosive? He'd gotten away with the hostage-taking, he'd cleared his name, he uncovered Rachel's guilt...

And yet, Todd was a wreck.

He wasn't looking well and could barely maintain a decent conversation with anyone, even with those closest to him. Although still the Chief Editor at The Sun, Todd was hardly there and Charlie Briggs was at the helm. Tea Delgado, his wife, had left him and Llanview, and Blair, his first wife, had been keeping Starr, their seven-year-old daughter, from Todd.

Kevin understood that Sam Rappaport, Todd's lawyer, was in the process of re-opening the custody matter to get the court to grant Todd full custody of Starr once again. Blair wasn't budging on the issue, of course, refusing to discus any kind of custody. After the hostage ordeal, she ranted to Viki that he "wasn't dealing with a full deck," so no way, no how, not even visitation.

Swallowing a mouthful of hate for Todd Manning, Kevin continued his typing, recalling the college rape of Marty Saybrooke and how Todd, the leader of the gang rape, had done nothing to stop a criminal prosecution of Kevin knowing full well he was innocent. Kevin would never forget the coldness of Todd's lies, the easy condemnation of his own frat brother.

Todd was a criminal, end of story, and he was going to be exposed for the last time.

Interrupting Kevin's work, Cassie, Kevin's wife, popped around to his side of the desk, her eyes bright and cheery, "Hey you, how's my knight in shining armor?"

He smiled at his beautiful wife, with a thoughtful, "Great…you?" He gave her a questioning look, amused at her obvious tease.

"Well, since you asked, I'm working on this story about Angel Square. Residents are rallying to get a treaty among the gangs ... trying to get investors for new co-ops and ... I want to get the word out by good old fashioned journalistic publicity." She grinned. "Anyway, Viki just okayed the story - I'm excited!" Cassie did a little jig at her last comment, smiling like a cheerleader. Kevin laughed openly and offered any assistance that he could give. She listened, taking advantage of the moment to be with Kevin under the guise of "work," and they then proceeded to mull over ideas for the story.

* * *

Across the reporters' room, tucked away at her desk, Viki glanced down at some proofs, emotionless. Her spirits should have been lifted after meeting with Cassie, should have been renewed at Cassie's enthusiasm...

They weren't.

Kevin's planned article on Michelle's disappearance disturbed her. She sighed, her thoughts zeroing in on Todd's current situation. He had withdrawn from her. Attempts to connect were shot down with typical sarcasm and off into the night he would go. Typical, maybe, but there was something eerily ... _different._.. about him.

Tea's leaving Todd had disappointed Viki, but she had understood. It's difficult, if not impossible, to continue a relationship with someone so emotionally unbalanced. Blair was another matter. Viki thought Todd needed to be with Starr as she seemed to be a lifeline to him. But it wasn't fair to put that kind of burden on a child. Starr was barely out of babyhood and did not need to be responsible for Todd's mental health. And if Blair was uncomfortable, truly uncomfortable and not just playing games, well, Viki had to listen. Nevertheless, she still wanted Starr to see her father; the little one had been missing him and always asked Viki about him.

Shaking her head, she called Sam. "Is there any way we can get Blair to let Todd visit with Starr? We can meet at my house where they'd be fully supervised."

There was some momentary silence, Sam then saying, "Umm ... he's asked me to drop my petition for custody. He doesn't even want visitation."

"What?"

"Yeah, he told me he's leaving... going to Chicago. I'm worried as hell but ... he won't talk to me."

"Something's wrong," Viki said.

"Yeah, I know. Listen, I have a court appearance in an hour. I plan on seeing him afterwards. Maybe I'll see you at his place? We can ambush him into getting some help - something. Anything."

As soon as she hung up, Viki grabbed her purse and keys. Not waiting around for Sam. Kevin looked up as she rushed past his desk, but resumed his work on his article. Damn him to hell, he thought, straight to hell.

* * *

Viki called the Sun's office on her way to the Penthouse. Just in case, she thought. But the receptionist said that Todd hadn't been in since the previous Friday. Thanking her, Viki hung up. Thought about what Sam told her about Todd dropping his claim for custody, leaving Llanview for Chicago. My God, she thought, he would have done anything for his daughter. Now he wants to leave? No custody, no visitation? What's in Chicago, she then wondered? Michelle, maybe? Was Kevin really onto something?

_Talk to me, Todd ... please._

She couldn't stop the growing tide of concern. Her brother had already been through so much. His adoptive father, Peter Manning, had been abusive but he was lucky to have had escaped Victor Lord, as a custodial parent. She grew wistful recounting her own abuse at Victor's monstrous hands, sexual abuse. Said a silent prayer thanking God she had overcome what had happened to her and now lead a full life, free of the personality disorder that plagued her for years. She added a plea to help Todd, to save him from himself, finally asking God to give her strength to help him.

She pulled into the garage of the Manning Building where the Penthouse was located. Headed to the elevator. When the door opened, Blair was punching buttons, "This stupid elevator!"

Viki jumped a little, surprised, "Blair, what are you doing here?" Viki stepped in and punched the button to the top level for the Penthouse, Blair having backed off the control panel. The doors of the elevator closed the two women in together.

"I was on my way up to the Penthouse and ... and this ... God-forsaken elevator brought me down just as I got to the top ... stupid building ..."

Viki thought it was more than a misguided elevator that had Blair on edge.

"Blair -"

The elevator stopped at the Penthouse floor, interrupting Viki, and slid open. The women stepped out into the hallway of the top floor and both stared at the Penthouse 2 door for a moment, almost as if they were expecting it to do something, to vibrate, to open ... to speak.

Viki turned to Blair, "Are you here trying to get Todd to change his mind about Starr?"

"Change his mind?! I've been calling him every day offering a visit out of ... pity for him ... now he's refusing to talk to me or see Starr. Do you know ANGRY that makes me? He tortures me for weeks and weeks, begging me to see her. He cries, claiming he's dying practically, and pow! Stops cold. I could just kill him!" Blair took a deep breath, leaning back against the wall and closing her eyes.

Viki looked down at that and said, "Sam told me Todd's dropping his petition for custody. I don't understand."

"Right and it's so typical - I'm sure he has something planned. Just you wait, he's waiting for my guard to be down and then he'll pounce on me like a rabid dog. That ... bastard!" Anger cloaked Blair's truth, her real concern for Todd. Something ... was going horribly wrong.

Viki put her hand on Blair's shoulder and proceeded to give life to Blair's unspoken words, "He's not well. I don't think he's planning to do anything to get Starr back or anything like that. Sam also told me Todd was planning to leave Llanview to go to Chicago. Did he mention anything like that to you?"

"No, he didn't. He hasn't spoken to me at all, I told you! What the hell is wrong with him?!"

"I don't know - that's why I'm here. Let's talk to him, civilly. No death threats, ok?"

"Fine. But I'm not making a promise that I won't beat the truth out of him."

Viki sighed, shaking her head. Approaching the door, she rang the bell.

Todd opened it quickly, stringy hair falling over his face, shirt open onto a ragged tee-shirt, well-worn jeans hanging low. Shadowed eyes. Viki and Blair both stuttered out introductions, stumbling on each other's words. In his usual manner, he growled, "Shut up the both of you. The hell do you want?"

Viki stopped Blair with her hand, seeing she was about to respond equally as rough and said, "Todd, I- we have been very worried about you. Can we please come in?"

"No. I'm packing and need to leave. I have a plane to catch."

Todd started to shut the door, but Blair stopped the door from closing, grumbling, "No way, buddy boy. You're not getting off that easily."

"Whatever."

Blair and Viki both walked in, following Todd as he headed towards the living room, both noting the definite smell of cigarettes in the place. They gave each other confused glances, seeing an ashtray full of cigarette butts. It was out of character. He'd given up cigarettes ages ago. But then, lately, everything he'd been doing was ... out of character.

Once in the living area, he began to throw clothes from a pile on the couch into a large duffel bag on the floor, not bothering to fold them or even shake them out. Viki walked up to him and touched his shoulder, saddened at his flinching reactively.

"Todd. Talk to me. I need to know what's going on with you. Please."

He stopped what he was doing and simply stood quietly, looking down at the clothes in his hands. He gazed at Viki, staring at her mouth a second or two before raising his eyes to hers, and said, "Don't worry about me. It's over. I'll be out of your hair before you can say, 'Let's kill all the lawyers'. Ok? I just ... need to take care of some things before ... before I leave. Just go." He then turned to Blair, "Give a kiss to Starr for me, ok? Tell her, I love her, and ... just tell her that." He turned quickly back to his packing and swallowed hard, fighting back an overpowering wave of sorrow. Starr, he thought, my beautiful ... perfect baby girl.

Clenching her teeth, about to light into Todd, Blair looked at Viki for support. Viki said calmly in response, "Blair, let me talk to Todd alone. I'll call you when I get home." She smiled compassionately, Blair then sighing impatiently and walking out the front door, slamming it shut. Said nothing ... because anything coming out of her mouth would have been hostile.

All of a sudden, Todd threw the clothes in his hand towards the door yelling an aggravated, incomprehensible sound. Viki put her purse down in a hurry at that, moving close to him as he stood quietly, lost in his upset. "Fuckin' bitch," he muttered, more to himself than to Blair or even Viki.

Putting her hand lightly on his back, not getting a reaction this time, Viki asked softly, "Tell me what's going on. You don't seem yourself. You're more of a mess now than at the lodge; I think you've lost weight. You look like you haven't slept or ... even washed. I'm really worried, here. I love you ... I want you to know I'm here for you. You can tell me anything. Is it Tea?"

Todd stared at the floor. After some moments, he said, "No ... it's not Tea. I just ... need to take care of something in Chicago. I ... I have to go. There's nothing to say anymore. Please just let me go ..." Viki watched in near shock as he said this last plea with tears in his eyes and his voice choking back a sob. He'd never appeared this pained to her before, this open. He wiped at his eyes in frustration, almost growling, and pulled away.

Viki put her arms around him. He seemed to weaken a little, appearing surprised at his own need of human contact and laid his head lightly on her shoulder.

"I'm here, Todd, if you need me," she reiterated. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll listen to anything you have to say, no matter what it is. Talk to me."

Saying nothing, he moved out of her hold on him and walked back to his pile of clothes, kneeling on the floor to continue his packing. He cleared his throat and mumbled a tired, "I'm alright. Uh ... thank you for everything you've ever done for me. I ... I know I haven't been easy. I'm ok." He turned his head and looked up at her, giving her a small smile trying to assure her, trying to divert her attention away from him, from his ... condition. "I'm just… preoccupied," he said. "That's all. I promise I'll take a shower before I leave. Please Viki, just leave me alone to do what I have to do."

She wanly smiled back at him, watching as he resumed his chore of packing. And then ... against all her better instincts, against a screaming command inside of her insisting that she not leave him behind, she said, "Okay," and ... walked out the front door, purse in hand. She ... left. Like he wanted her to ... like he needed her to.

Shutting the door, she leaned on the solid wood. She felt powerless to help him, weak. He'll be fine, she told herself. He probably wants to squash the story on Michelle ... but that sadness ... that ... deterioration was still there. God ... go back in, she urged herself. She then tried the door, but it had locked.

Knocking, she called out, "Todd! Let me in ... let me drive you to the airport. TODD!" But there was no sound inside. Only a dead silence. "Todd?" she asked again through the door.

Nothing.

"Please open the door," she pleaded. Then she heard footsteps ... a hand being placed on the door. Nails scratched the wood, maybe he leaned on the door. "Todd ... let me in, please." Viki looked at the doorknob, looked for it to twist to let her in.

But she heard steps again ... fading away. He had chosen his destiny ... he chose to not let in the one person who could help him right now.

"Oh, sweetheart …" Viki sighed. She could only hope that he would come back to Llanview and his family safe and sound. She had a bad feeling about this, though, a sensation of dread. Doom. Destiny. She shut off her mind, not wanting to think about her premonition ... that Todd had no intention of ever coming back to Llanview safe and sound. Ever. She shut off that thundering intuition because it was too loud, too ... dark.

* * *

Todd ambled back to the living room. Collapsed to his knees, pressing his face into the clothes in front of him. Before long, unable to control himself, he found himself crying again, sitting up and smacking his head to stop himself, to short-circuit the despair. He was unable to let this bottomless-pit pain go. She was dead and it was his fault. He should have checked on her, should have made sure she was okay… he should have tried finding her. He shoved knuckles into his mouth, sobbed tears that seemed to burn his skin, cutting into him.

The voices ... they were getting to him, yelling at him, not allowing him to think. And the images ... God, god, they were killing him.

After a few minutes, he regained a semblance of control and shakily stood up. He walked over to his desk, sniffling, scowling at the papers on the floor where he had thrown them earlier. He picked them up, un-crumpled them and read the last lines of the investigator's report yet again.

"According to the local paper, on June 25, Michelle Chant jumped into the New River, West Virginia, to her death. Her body was never found. Local authorities have closed their files assuming her body lost in the rapids of the River or taken by wild animals. They had searched for a body for several weeks after that to no avail. There were 2 witnesses to her jump. She was 22 years old. She is survived by a younger brother and her parents. There is nothing further to report."

"I'm so sorry," he said. "I'm so fucking sorry, Michelle." Todd felt numb as he read the lines over and over. He remembered her silky brown hair, her joyous smile, her infectious laugh. He would look at her in class and she would look at him, winking, letting him know she caught him staring at her once again. Her eyes, hazel like his own eyes, long lashes, eyes that would nearly disappear when she smiled or laughed, because those eyes laughed along with her. Her body was thin and athletic - well, she had been so young. He smiled for a moment recalling her mouth, her full lips, her nose and the freckles on her skin. They had both only been thirteen ... but there was something about them ... they were old souls, as the saying goes.

He remembered her giggling when she would help him with his homework during their library hour, "No, Todd, we need to study!" But he would continue to playfully tickle her, any excuse to touch her, and before long they would get an icy stare from the librarian. They would study only at Michelle's insistence. He thought of her kisses, warm and passionate ones shared on top of an abandoned blanket in the basement of the school - near the furnace - secret from all the world, stolen kisses. His first kisses of a girl. Her first kisses of a boy. Innocent kisses which turned to frenzied, unsatisfied, wanting kisses. "I love your sad face," she would say to him as she covered him with those kisses. He stopped his memories from moving further down that road.

He once again read that last line:

"There is nothing further to report."

He knew what he had to do. Chicago would not be graced by his presence today. Not ever. Llanview ... would lose its Great Pariah.

_Forever._

Sitting at his desk, rocking hypnotically, Todd sniffed and licked his lips. Soon picked up the telephone and dialed the Banner, spitting, "Yeah, get me Kevin Buchanan."

"One moment please," the nameless and faceless operator stated without emotion. Todd couldn't help but think of this disembodied voice ... floating around ... snaking its way around him ... slithering into his ear ... then out ... running down along his neck. He shook away what was fast becoming a hallucination, then waited, oddly numb, for Kevin to come to the phone. He looked at the investigator's report and formulated the final plan in his mind. He was working through his plan, step by step, when he heard the grating familiar voice, "Buchanan, here."

"Uh, yeah this is your fav'rite Uncle Todd, _Kevvie_," he sneered his best possible at that moment, the snake crawling across the report.

Kevin furrowed his brows, thinking that maybe it wasn't the one and only Todd Manning at the other end of his telephone, the voice sounding so tired and, well, different. Slurring even.

"What do you want?" How he hated when Todd called him, "Kevvie".

Todd's sarcasm evaporated, his body out of energy, "Well, Kevvie, I have some, uh, paperwork you might be interested in. I know you found out something about ..." He hesitated for a moment, taking a breath to maintain composure, "...about an old friend of mine, Michelle Chant."

He sighed in relief and thought, _its out, I said her name out loud_. _There is nothing further to report._

His mind wandered. Felt the cool water of the New River hit his face, his body. He was drifting, broken by the hard current. Voices taunted him ... called him. He glanced up the stairs ... then watched the snake crawl upwards towards the bathroom and towards the voices ... hissing ... the tongue flickering in and out.

"Really, and you want me to have this paperwork of yours? What about the Sun? Why would you feed me information on a potentially hot topic about you?" Kevin's intense questioning was rewarded only with a disturbing stillness.

"Hey! You still there?" Kevin pressed.

Todd stammered out a response, "Uh yeah, listen, just ... just come to the Penthouse and ... and get it. Come in a couple of hours, yeah, in a couple of hours. The key's under the doormat. The ... the paperwork will be on my desk." Todd hung up abruptly. Yeah, that's good.

* * *

Kevin was a little stunned. Stared at the phone before putting it back down. 4:00 p.m. Wondered where Viki was. Maybe she would know about this deal with Todd. Kevin shook his head, cursing under his breath. Todd was such a pain. Whatever he did, he did big and always made sure to drag everyone down into hell with him. Shit.

Kevin called Viki on her cell phone and got no response. He decided to continue working on his article. His eyes kept moving to the clock. Shit.

* * *

Sam Rappaport emerged from his court appearance a little anxious. He was working on an injunction to stop a condemnation effort on the part of the city of Llanview to take some Angel Square property. Carlotta Vega's diner was directly in the line of fire and Sam agreed to donate legal time, pro bono, to help her save her diner. The city was merciless and unreasonable and he felt maybe some bigwigs were behind the condemnation proceedings. He even wondered about Judge Austin Campbell being bought off. He stretched his neck muscles in an attempt to ward off a migraine headache.

He thought of going to the Penthouse but changed his mind. Sam didn't deal with guilt very well and felt responsible for Todd's current condition.

He should never have confronted Todd about being raped by his father, Peter Manning.

"I would never let anyone do anything like that to me! I'm strong!" Todd never admitted to it. But Sam knew he was right. He knew something horrible happened to Todd on the night of his 14th birthday. He just didn't know the details. Thing was, he didn't really want to know because ... well ... the details had been right in front of him.

Looking back, Todd's basic personality had changed drastically that fourteenth year. The depression, anxiety, the paranoia. Hyper-aggression that led to that thing with Marty Saybrooke. There had been nobody he could have turned to at the time; Sam hadn't been available. He felt ashamed of himself; he'd failed Todd. Failed him miserably.

He shouldn't have pushed so hard; he'd deteriorated so much since the trial. Something about Georgie's murder had triggered the downward spiral and Sam couldn't figure it out. The result of the trial hadn't been any help. Todd got a suspended sentence thanks to him. Fact is Sam should have asked for hospitalization rather than straight probation.

But no. He promised Todd his silence. And ... he was Todd's attorney; anything Todd told him was confidential. Sam's hands were tied and ... irony of ironies, the confidentiality made him an active participant in Todd's decline. Sam walked out of the courthouse slowly and started to drive home. Perhaps he would call Viki and perhaps she could accompany him to face Todd. There was strength in numbers. He then changed his mind and decided to head on over to Todd's place himself.

* * *

Todd sat at his desk, strangely at peace. Calm. It wouldn't be too long now – everything was going to be taken care of. He wanted Kevin to have the information about Michelle. He knew the Sun would have to take advantage of the lurid details in the report and print a scathing article about its beloved owner and his little friend who threw herself into the Great White Rapids only to be eaten by wolves.

"Publisher's Lolita Finger-Lickin' Good", or something like that, would be plastered all over the front page. The Sun had no choice in that approach; it had an obligation to do that, a reputation ... a reputation ... salutation ... manifestation ... pluralization ... moralization. God, he couldn't think. He felt off-kilter, yet razor sharp and focused at the same time.

Yeah ... yeah ... that water ... that cold ... icy ... water. Snakes slithered in and out of the water ... hissing ... spitting …

So yeah ... the Banner would publish this story. Viki would be sure the article would be respectful. Couldn't deny the differences between the two newspapers. Todd looked around the Penthouse. Couldn't think.

Think, think, think. Oh yeah ... his ... plan ... yeah ... the plan. It's so quiet now …

Kevin was perfect ... yeah. When he comes for the paperwork, it'll be Kevin who'll get to retrieve Todd. Not Blair or Starr, not Starr ... God, not Starr. Not Viki either. He wanted Kevin to find him. It would be best. Kevvie hates him so it shouldn't affect him much. He would take care of business and would protect the girls. Yeah, that's good. That's real good.

The plan ... yeah, the plan. It's time. Time for relief ... time to take care of ... it. Time for ... bizzzzzness!

He pulled himself away from the desk and started to put his bag away; no, he thought, I better leave it out. That way Kevin will think he's still here and go look for him. Yeah, that's good. Oh and a note. He better write a note. Yeah, that's good. Looking down at his clothes before he got up, he could see the snake slithering in and out of the bag ... hissing ... spitting ... he walked to his desk again and pulled out some paper ... a pen ... stared at the pen's tip, It was sharp, could make cuts into skin if he pressed down hard enough ... cuts ... not deep enough, though...

_"Dear Kevvie, Here is the paperwork I told you about. Be sure to show the draft of your article to Viki. Hey, sorry about making you do this job. I thought you were the best choice - didn't want them to find the body. Give my love to everyone, and tell them I'm sorry, but they will be better off."_

He thought about writing to Blair, Starr, Viki and ... Tea. No, he thought, I can't, I can't do that. It will only make it worse._ Let them hate me for doing this. _It won't hurt as much. Oh, Starr, his beautiful cherubic baby girl. His baby ... his perfect ... baby girl.

He was shivering, but didn't know why. He looked down at his shaking limbs, realizing he couldn't actually _feel_ the tremors and figured it was because inside, he was dead already. Shrugged. Glanced around. Felt curiously excited about his plan. He smiled, even laughed 'cause he would be with Michelle soon.

The best part though was that Satan … would be dead, too. _Yeah, bitch._

He was really shaking now; he stood and nearly fell, his legs so weak. Days and days of non-sleep, of wakefulness ... of fighting and listening and arguing and ... and ... struggling to breathe.

_Let me get that knife, that really sharp one in the kitchen, the sharpest one in there. Yeah, that's good. That's real fucking good. Shhhh ... it's getting noisy again ... shhhh ... I'm coming for you, Satan ... you won't have me for long ... I'm coming. Take your last breaths through me, you bastard ... take your last fuckin' breaths._

He walked into the kitchen, dazed, as if he was in a dream. But he was focused. Yeah ... focused. His breathing felt funny; didn't know what it was. Sounded noisy and fast. He walked through the kitchen and pulled the blade off the chopping block. He ran it across his bearded chin and face, relishing the cool steel against his cheek, and then ... he floated out of the kitchen, watching his feet move yet not feeling the floor beneath them, the knife hanging loosely in his hand.

Yeah ... it's good this way. It'll be over ... over ... it'll be so quiet.

* * *

Kevin looked at the clock and thought that he better get over to Todd's place even if it was a little earlier than Todd asked. He grabbed his keys and started for his car. Shit.

* * *

Todd walked through the living room, stepping on clothes, nearly tripping, but he wasn't fazed. He moved up the stairs, slowly, one step at a time. Floating still. He could almost see himself gliding, as if he looked down on himself from above. Like an angel ... like a drifting angel ...

It was happening ... his plan. And it was beautiful vengeance, red and shiny and ... perfect. And Satan ... he was going to be so ... damned surprised.

He walked into the bathroom, admiring the blade, its shininess, its silver readiness, and ... took off his clothes, piece by piece. He looked at his naked body in the mirror, seeing it ugly, scarred, damaged ... evil. He knew Satan was eating him from the inside out and it was already showing through. He looked at the recent markings made by his own cigarette on his abdomen, chest and other parts, shameful parts, hurting parts, those last few days. By burning himself from the outside in he would be warning Satan that he was going to get him. Each burn, a new threat to Satan. He then saw the snake at his feet, twisting and writhing. Telling him what he needed to do.

_I haven't forgotten ... I'm here ... ready ... ready for my plan. Here I come, Peter Baby! Here I come! I'm not going to belong to you anymore because you will be DEAD ... we'll both be dead._

Oh the joy - he was saving his beautiful daughter and Viki and Blair and Tea from Peter Manning and Satan. They'll be so thankful to be rid of him. He will be victorious!

He would be free.

* * *

Kevin got into his car and started the engine. Slammed the steering wheel. Todd drove him over the edge, infuriated him beyond words. He should just forget about this stupid article. He was sure he was a pawn in one of Todd's sick games and would end up truly regretting his participation. But ... but the truth had to come out even if ... he ended up being a pawn. Even if his mother would end up hurt.

Viki loved Todd like a lost puppy, sick puppy that he was. Admittedly, he had begun to see a little of what was in her heart. He understood that she saw Todd as "herself". He knew that when Viki reached out to Todd, she was reaching out to the little, injured, abused child that she had once been.

Not that he felt Todd had been abused or any of that crap.

In his darkest moments, Kevin worried that if his mother lost Todd, she might lose herself as well. So he battled within himself: Get rid of Todd, keep him. Get rid of Todd, keep him.

He drove out of the garage of the Banner and headed towards the Penthouse. Shit.

* * *

Todd picked up the knife, opened the door to the shower and turned the water on, hot. He stepped into the steaming water with that promising knife in his hand, a knife which was calling to him, singing to him, backed by the snake's hisses. He closed the glass door and felt the water warm his body. He stood there, unmoving, listening to the sounds of Satan ...

Yeah ... he was running scared; Satan ... was scared shitless.

Todd sighed, the hot water cascading around him. Why couldn't Michelle have landed into a nice hot bubbling spring of water instead of that river? He pictured her a nymph in such a hot spring, hair floating behind her, arms and legs, open, waiting for Todd to swim to her, to move on top of her, another nymph. They would make love there in the warm enveloping water ... she would love him ... and he would love her ... again ... uninterrupted this time ... untainted ...

_...un ...ruined._

How beautiful she was that night. It was so wonderful and loving, but then it was trashed and destroyed by Peter Satan what's-his-name. Why did she have to throw herself into the icy rocky razor sharp waters of the river? Why? Razor sharp water with razor sharp rocks, cutting and disintegrating her body. Parts left for the wolves. Razor sharp water with razor sharp rocks. Cutting ... slicing ... slashing ... reddening the water, reddening her world, his world.

Vacantly, he looked down at the razor sharp knife in his hand, glimmering, wet, waiting ... and slashed at his forearm. Again. Again. Again. Again. Switched hands, weakly slashed at his other arm... couldn't get as deep… hit the veins… hit the blue...

Yeah ... Satan was paying for what he did. Cutting water ... razor sharp ... water ... rocks ... steel.

_Beautiful fucking vengeance._

The knife fell, clinking against the tile. Blood ran down his hands and fingers, pouring into the drain along with the water. He lifted his hands in front of him, watching the blood pump out. He closed his eyes, tilted his head back, blood baptizing his body, coursing down his arms, down his sides, down his legs, diffusing as the water splashed onto him. His long hair lengthened, darkened, as it got more and more wet with the steam, blood and water.

God help me, he thought.

Everything began to spin and blacken. Turning slightly, he fell back and smashed against the glass door, the door flying open behind him. He hit the tile floor heavily, his arms above his head. Blood moved along the tiles, a silky growing shroud underneath him. He swam in imagined water ... with Michelle ... hearing her laugh, feeling her love ... beautiful vengeance, indeed.

The sound of water gently running floated throughout Penthouse 2.

**To be continued….**


	2. Chapter 2

**On the Edge of Wakefulness**

**Chapter 2**

Kevin got into the elevator of the Manning Building, feeling each sway and bump along the way to the top floor. He ran a hand through his short dark hair and sighed, aggravated he was playing Todd's game. Regretted not having spoken to Viki first as she might have been able to shed light on this ... _paperwork_. On the other hand, she might have changed Kevin's mind about going after Todd so hard.

The elevator stopped at the penthouse level with a jerk and groaned open. Quick as light, he stood in front of the door to PH2. The door to hell, he said to himself bitterly. Letting out a hard breath, he concluded Viki would survive his nailing Todd to the wall on this Michelle thing. She would be better off without him, society would be better off without him. Absolutely ... definitely.

Kevin bent down and lifted the doormat the way Todd had told him to, pausing as its velvety material caressed his fingers. It was an unusual material ... it felt ... alive almost ... _inhabited._

"You're losing it, Kevin," he said aloud before he picked up the key. Shook his head, frustration with Todd still pecking at him, making him wish he was someplace else.

_Knock, knock, knock, Kevvie._

He unlocked the door and it swung open, the entire Penthouse itself seeming to invite Kevin in. He shuddered involuntarily at that and stepped inside, leaving the door open. He walked through the entrance way, quickly finding himself at the edge of the living room, inside Todd's ... _home_. He shuddered again, sure now of the unmistakable living deadness he felt. The place was inhabited ... by ghosts, demons, even. It felt like a tomb.

_Look around, Kevvie! Have a really good look, why don'tcha!_

Right away, he spotted a bag on the floor, a pile of messed-up clothes next to it. Clothes appeared to have been kicked toward the stairs. Two crumpled shirts near the door, as if they'd been thrown. Glancing over at Todd's large desk to his left, black-stained and modern, where the paperwork was supposed to be, thinking he wanted to get the hell out, Kevin suddenly caught the sound of the shower running.

"Todd?" he yelled uncertainly. He ambled toward the stairs, past the couch, past the fireplace, past the incompletely packed bag, and began to go up. Each part of the Penthouse seemed to eye his movements, waiting for him. It's gotta be Todd up there, Kevin reasoned, changing his mind about going to see, turning and making his way back to the desk.

_Oh come on, Kevvie. I'm here waiting for you. Come look ... come find me. Come to my blood-letting celebration._

Kevin saw the paperwork Todd told him about: a smoothed-out report from an investigating company. On top of it, though, lay a handwritten note. He picked it up, recognizing Todd's handwriting and ... read it… hitting words… _didn't want them to find the body. _Kevin's heart dropped into his gut and he turned, racing up the stairs, calling out hoarsely, "Todd!"

Couldn't run fast enough. Each step beneath his feet felt bigger than the previous, each step stretching itself to watch Kevin's ascent. As he reached the final step, he saw blood seeping out of the bathroom's door and steam floating ethereally upwards.

"No!" He pushed open the door and … _oh God, no ... no ... no_ ... his stomach lurched at the horrific sight of Todd's nude body lying flat on the floor in a large pool of blood, water showering down. Blood, so much blood, where does it come from?

"Don't do this, Jesus, don't do this!" Kevin absently grabbed the nearest towel. He dropped to his knees and pulled Todd's muscular but slight upper body onto his lap. He couldn't believe how cold he was.

"Oh God ...oh God," Kevin kept repeating.

Shaking and sick, he quickly looked to see where the blood was coming from and saw Todd's forearms, both cut bad. Holding the more damaged limb in his hand, he attempted to use pressure to stop the sluggish bleed. Used his other hand to take off his belt. He quickly tied it around Todd's arm below the angry slashes as a makeshift tourniquet. He tied the towel around Todd's other arm, continuing to use pressure even though the bleeding from that side seemed to have stopped on its own. Todd's head lay back off Kevin's thigh, his mouth slightly open, his eyes closed. His long hair, matted and wet from blood and water, fell onto the floor.

_Why, Kevvie, welcome to my Hell!_

Kevin searched for a pulse on Todd's neck, checked if he was breathing. When he couldn't sense anything, he screamed, "Help! Someone! HELP!" Held there by his efforts to contain the situation, frozen, Kevin looked at Todd in his arms, angrily saying, "Don't you die, don't you goddamn die…you selfish bastard!" Todd was so pale in the bathroom's harsh light and he seemed so cold.

Kevin screamed again, "HEY! Help!" His voice faded out with a last desperate gasp and he wondered for a moment if it was really over. He had to get to a phone, but his body wouldn't - couldn't - move. The blood on the floor slithered beneath Kevin's knees, tethering him.

At the very moment Kevin had screamed for help the first time, Sam had walked into the Penthouse through the open door. He thought he heard a voice that sounded like Kevin Buchanan's so he ran up the stairs, two at a time, and then ... like a nightmare, like a parent's worst nightmare, he saw his Todd, his angry Todd, lying naked in Kevin's arms surrounded by blood. Sam's heart shattered into a million pieces. Kevin turned and looked at his rescuer, silently mouthing the words, help me, Todd's suffering evident on Kevin's face.

_Do you feel the heat now, Kevvie?_

Sam's groped desperately for his cell phone and dialed 9-1-1, spitting out an order to get an ambulance and paramedics to the Penthouse immediately, "He's bleeding, Jesus, he's dying..." Hanging onto the phone, repeating instructions to Kevin, Sam looked for something with which to cover Todd, knowing how much he hated to be exposed. He found a black and velvety towel with gold embroidered "TM" initials and put it across Todd. Sam thought of Todd always wearing long sleeves and pants and heavy coats; the more clothing, the better. And they had to be black or brown. No bright colors, too damn cheery.

Tears started to flow down Sam's agonized face as he lay the cell aside, as he moved to kneel close to his young friend, his almost-son. Kevin was afraid to move because he didn't want to release the pressure on Todd's arm. Truth was, though, the bleed had stopped. Bad bad sign. Sam pleaded, stroking Todd's forehead, trying to get him to wake up, "Can you hear me, pal? Come on ..."

He couldn't believe it. He's a survivor, remember? In their conversation about Todd's possible rape, Sam had told Todd that _hadn't_ survived his childhood trauma, and Todd had argued that Sam was wrong. So … his Todd would never do _this_. Self-preservation was the name of Todd's game. Survival was Todd's way of LIFE!

_Now who won, buddy boy?_

The paramedics arrived much to the relief of Sam and Kevin and began prepping him for transport, commenting that Todd's blood pressure was dangerously low, that he had lost a tremendous amount of blood. They couldn't tell how much damage he'd done to himself, nor what was done exactly. They started an IV line, moving fast. The team knew that once Todd's blood pressure began to return to normal, if it did, the bleeding could pick up again. He had to get into surgery fast to tie off those veins and arteries and repair whatever other damage was inflicted.

Kevin listened as one of the paramedics, a young woman, radioed Llanview Emergency and advised the intake operator that a male, somewhere in between age 25 and 35, was coming in from the Manning Building with severe bleeding from both lower arms from a steel blade, in late stage shock. The paramedics were able to confirm that Todd was still alive, but barely. His pulse was very fast, one said. He was completely unresponsive and his eyes were dilated, the other said. The paramedic then explained to Sam that with Todd's being in severe shock, he risked heart failure. They gave him oxygen, covered him with blankets and swept him off in a gurney to the ambulance waiting below. Sam accompanied them, close behind the paramedics.

Leaving Kevin behind.

* * *

Once they were gone, Kevin stood in the bathroom alone in complete and utter disbelief. He was covered in blood. They were bonded together now, true "blood brothers." From womb to tomb. The phrase confused and tormented him now, bringing on an unrecognizable pain. He hated Todd ... and yet with equal conviction, he didn't want him dead. But ... maybe it was the conviction of an executioner ... death row inmates are always kept safe ... and healthy ... before they're hanged.

Suicide ... is a big no-no on death row.

Whatever the root of his intense emotion, he was unprepared for it. He'd seen death on Todd's face and felt it on his body. Kevin heard death laugh at his measly attempt to derail Todd's fate and felt it breeze by. Death... had found its way to Todd and was planning on sticking around ... like mist, like ... blood.

* * *

Beneath the sounds of the wailing siren, the paramedic rested one hand on the side of Todd's neck, monitoring the delicate thump of his pulse. She had him hooked up to a monitor, but she always thought there was something miraculous in that blip under the skin.

She knew who Todd Manning was and rather admired the way he had lifted himself out of less than savory circumstances to become a newspaper magnate. She shook her head and hoped he would be able to pull himself out of this one. Her partner watched the monitors as they flew down the streets of Llanview.

Soon enough, they arrived at the hospital, the patient covered in blankets to help reduce the shock to his body, having not shown a favorable response so far. He had also been placed into anti-shock trousers to help him ... anything and everything to save him. With the help of her partner, she rolled the gurney out of the ambulance to begin the process of saving Todd Manning's life.

Inside the hospital, a Llanview police officer stood by as the ambulance arrived. All suspicious injuries required the input and investigation of the police. The paramedics had reported that they suspected a suicide attempt as the cause of Mr. Manning's injuries. The cop was there to check it out. If it appeared to be a suicide attempt, he'd get admitted into psychiatric care. A judge would order it, Judge Campbell of course.

He glanced over the blanketed Todd casually as he was rushed in, equipment resting on the side of the gurney, blood on the pillow. He overheard the staff commenting on the knife that was brought in and which also lay on the gurney next to Todd, wrapped in plastic. A nurse stepped over to him, said, no doubt, he tried to kill himself. He made a few notes and headed back to police headquarters to confirm the attempt, to start the wheels turning for a psychiatric lock-down court order.

Todd was placed in Examining Room 3 and the emergency room doctors began working on him, one female voice calling for blood, "Type O - stat!"

A male voice snapped, "Prep him for surgery, the bleed's started up again. Didn't know cutting was still in fashion."

Another male voice chimed in, sounding like he was talking to Todd, trying to get him to respond, "Hey, guy, can you hear me? You have people who love you, man. You gotta' wake up! Wake up! Let's GO!"

Then quieter, "Nahh... putting up quite a fight. Doesn't want to be here. BP's all over the place ..."

"They never want to be here when you catch them too early."

"Yeah ... next time he won't be using a knife, either ... he'll _graduate_ to a gun."

"What a positive thinker you are!"

"It's true, though ... isn't it?"

"Seen too many to contradict you."

A female voice then commanded, "Can we get that blood, damn it?! And get some more fluid into him ..." And on and on it went.

Sam had gotten out of the cab of the ambulance, following the gurney inside. He now stood watching the staff in Room 3 work on his broken friend. He stood outside the open doors, aching and silent. Dr. Larry Wolek, a longtime Llanview physician who had seen more than his share of sad cases, was coming down the hall, having heard of the arrival of their new patient. He had examined and treated Todd Manning on several occasions and despite his criminal past, Dr. Wolek learned to appreciate his wit and seeming imperviousness to Llanview's intolerance of its Dark Prince. Todd's presence on this night saddened and surprised him.

He gave Sam a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder with a slight smile and a wink as he brushed past and popped his head into Room 3, asking, "How's it going, people?"

Sam looked at him blankly. The repetitive beep of a heart monitor drifted among the intermingling voices of the doctors and nurses working on their patient.

"We're prepping him for surgery, Doctor, but he's still in shock with a fluctuating blood press -"

Just as the nurse said that, one of the doctors yelled, "Damn… he's coding!"

One long continuous tone moved across the hospital's emergency room, signaling a stopped heart. Several people in the waiting room looked up, one with his foot wrapped in a large ace-band and elevated on a cardboard box, another one with a sick-looking baby in her lap sucking on a bottle of juice and occasionally crying tears of discomfort.

Todd's body jerked with the jolt of electricity running through his body, one exposed foot flexing involuntarily. The staff stopped and waited to see if his heart started up again. When it didn't, a doctor said, "Again."

Todd's body once more reacted violently to that searing intrusive jolt and Dr. Wolek heard the familiar beep start again. He breathed out and looked over at Sam who had been holding his breath as well. Sam rubbed his face and moaned softly into his hands. Sunk to the floor against the wall.

Dr. Wolek didn't disturb him - he understood the shock and helplessness family members and loved ones feel when one of their own attempts or succeeds at a suicide.

Sam turned his head and gazed at Todd on the gurney, oxygen mask on, noticing some of his long hair hanging off the side of the bed, blood having darkened the dangling locks to a dull brick-tinged brown. He looked at the floor hopelessly. A member of the staff came up to him and said that they would be putting a breathing tube into Todd to protect his airway, and that, once he stabilizes, they would be sending him to emergency surgery. No prognosis.

A baby's cry drifted across the emergency room, with a comforting shush behind it.

* * *

Kevin, in his once-pressed chino pants topped by a once-pressed oxford blue shirt, haphazardly wiped the floor with a towel. He smeared the blood, accomplishing nothing. Blood brothers, now, he thought to himself, staring at the brownish-red streaks across the floor. He was surprised at how easily he recalled his hatred for Todd, a man who never hesitated to take a shot at the Buchanan family. Any opportunity to tear at "family," at his vision of stability, Todd would devour it.

At the same time, Kevin found himself mourning Todd as if he lost a real brother. It hurt to see the blood, to see someone having given up. With that thought, with a deep sense of dread, he realized he had to call his mother and tell her what happened. He didn't want to, was afraid to. God, he lost her once to her illness, would he lose her again to sadness? He didn't even know if Todd was still alive.

Facing the deed, he walked out of the hellish-looking bathroom, picking up his cell from the floor. He'd dropped it when he'd found Todd. Dialed the familiar number of the Banner and managed to mumble out his request, "Hey, is Viki Buchanan still in? It's Kevin."

He closed his eyes and sank to the floor, his eyes drifting to the blood again, still visible to him on the tiled floor.

The operator told him that Viki wasn't in. She'd left a message stating she'd gone home. Kevin dialed their home number.

"Hello?" Her voice sounded serious. Kevin struggled to speak, feeling a loss of control at the sweet, comforting sound of his mother's voice.

"Mom . . . ," his voice broke convulsively. He knew he was scaring her, but there was nothing he could do about it. The words stuck behind a shocking degree of fear.

"Kevin? What's wrong, what's happened?" She paused at Kevin's hesitation to tell her, at his _inability_ to tell her, and then she gasped. She knew.

"It's Todd, isn't it?"

"He tried to kill himself, Mom. There was so much ... blood. Christ ..."

He cried into the phone, unable to stop it. What was he doing?

"Where - Kevin - where is he?" An astonishing moment of calm.

"Where?"

"Tell me where he is," she firmly insisted, knowing where he'd be, but she had to get her son under control.

"Llanview Emergency."

"I'll meet you there." She gave nothing away of her emotions when she hung up the phone. Kevin knew she was on her way. Business to be had. Always taking care of business.

He slumped in the hallway, recovering from his brief break-down with his mother, regaining control. What was the next step? The hospital. He dreaded the obligation, not wanting to see Viki fall apart, perhaps having to identify Todd's body. He held his head in his hands, still feeling the weight of Todd's body over his legs.

Kevin looked at his hands, blood still on them, and wondered if he was responsible for this. After all, he was the one who pressed forward with the Banner's ground- breaking, ball-busting article condemning Todd as the murderer of Georgie Phillips. And he was the one who wasn't letting up on Michelle's disappearance.

_Georgie Phillips._ The accusation that Todd had killed her had really gotten to him. Made him crazy enough to take hostages. Why? Georgie had no apparent connection to Todd - they hardly seemed to have known each other. She was simply another nut who was a little like Todd: a displaced drifter, an outcast, trying to make her way in the world with dark methods. In Georgie's case, by blackmailing the Buchanan family.

The detectives found a letter on Georgie's person showing she was attempting to blackmail Kevin's paternal uncle Bo Buchanan, Llanview's upstanding police commissioner. Georgie wrote in her letter that she had evidence of Bo's disloyalty to the police force and to the citizens of Llanview. She claimed she could prove Bo was part of a massive bribery ring involving the city of Llanview condemning real property in order to turn around and sell the property to rich entities way below market value in exchange for huge kickbacks. Georgie's theory of the bribery ring was shot down by the Llanview police force quickly and deftly, nothing further being done about it. Ended up though, blackmail had nothing to do with her death.

Rachel confessed to the murder indicating they had gotten into a fight, that Rachel had been sure Georgie was going to kill her. Unfortunately, it didn't rise to the level of self-defense, so Rachel had to plea-bargain. Georgie was dismissed as a "kook".

Kevin shook his head and stood up, reluctantly. Wondered if Todd would be going to Hell where Kevin had always supposed his ultimate destination would be. He walked down the stairs, still shaky nevertheless from his experience. He breathed deeply and sadly. Composed, however.

Kevin was just about to walk out the still-open front door when he noticed the paperwork on Todd's desk. He cringed when he saw the edge of Todd's suicide note peeking out from behind one of the desk's legs. He bent down and picked it up, re-reading it, bewildered by the light tone of the message. His chest tightened with a flash of heartache, recalling the sight of Todd in the bathroom. How long would that memory keep coming back to him? It had taken over. He couldn't replace the bloody image of Todd with how Todd looked normally, sauntering into Banner, flippant and smirking at Kevin, throwing a sarcastic comment Kevin's way.

He picked up the investigator's report, glancing over the first page without reading it. He folded it, along with the note, and walked out the door, ready to face whatever was coming his way.

* * *

Viki and Kevin arrived at the hospital at the same time. She was overwhelmed at seeing Kevin's clothes, bloodied and rumpled, at seeing his pained eyes and face. Her mouth flew open, her hand reaching up to her face quickly. Viki's composure was momentarily lost as she faced the truth, which up until now was only speculation. She quickly hugged her eldest son closely, whispering raggedly, "Oh my God, Kevin." She pulled back, her eyes large with concern, "Are you okay?"

Kevin shook his head, "I don't know. I don't want to think about it – better check on him."

"Yes, yes . . . ," she said, unsure of who to throw herself at first, her son or Todd.

They stepped over to the check-in desk and didn't even have to ask. The nurse, familiar with the well-known face and consummate professionalism of Viki Carpenter, immediately told them Todd was still in surgery and did not anticipate his coming out of recovery any sooner than two hours. She then added, reassuringly, "He is alive. That's step no.1."

She looked at them like a school teacher would and Viki smiled, "Thank you." They then noticed Sam still sitting on the floor next to the door of Room 3, behind the nurse's counter.

Sam looked up at Viki and just shook his head, putting it back down. Sam, in his late forties with graying wavy hair and handsome rugged features, closed his eyes, "I am so sorry. I didn't ever in my wildest dreams think he was capable of . . . this."

Viki swallowed a lump in her throat, working to stay calm. Too many people counted on her strength to get through this. Too many people were concerned for her well- being considering her ever-valiant stance on the issue of Todd.

She offered an attempt at consolation, "Sam, none of us knew, or rather, none of us wanted to know. He was very determined." Kevin walked around to Sam and helped him up off the floor. The three of them headed to the surgical waiting room.

* * *

A couple of hours later, Todd lay on a bed in a recovery ward, just out of surgery. He was covered with heavy, plain cotton blankets up to his neck, intravenous tubes taped to the top of his hand. Still in the process of being admitted into Llanview Hospital, Todd hadn't been cleaned or robed yet having needed surgery so quickly. Other tubes and wires were coming out from underneath the blanket, monitoring his every function. Various fluids and medication drained into him in an attempt to restore his once healthy physicality. Evidence of his enacted plan could be seen on his skin, on his matted hair jumbled against the pillow. Dried blood.

And in the face of all that violence, he slept soundly. There was a _sense_ of peacefulness.

A nurse assistant quietly stepped into the room with her soap, plastic container, towels and gown, ready to wash the Hospital's unfortunate patient. Although most of her red hair was swept back behind her head in a bun, several strands hung down along her cheek. She moved close to Todd and smiled sadly, leaning her head a little to the right to look at her patient, "Well, here I am, to help get you into a condition that's a little better than this. Ok? I'm going to wash your shoulders, chest, back and arms with a wet washcloth. I'll also rinse your hair and try to get those tangles out, ok?"

She went to the bathroom and filled her container with water and soap, bringing it back and laying it on the rolling table next to Todd's bed. She lowered the blankets and turned to soak a towel waiting for her. She wrung it and began washing Todd as carefully as she'd described. She rinsed the towel, the water in the container rosy from the blood. She turned Todd carefully to his side and washed his back, gently. She continued in this manner until he was clean.

Laying a mat beneath his head, she began the slow process of rinsing Todd's hair, hoping to get most of the blood out and loosen the tangles. She soon found she couldn't do much because he was starting to rouse and she didn't want to hurt him or disturb his peacefulness. As she ran her hands through his wet hair, trying to press the excess water out, she noticed Todd grimace and heard a low moan. She tried to comfort him, saying, "Its ok, I'm not here to hurt you. I'm just rinsing your hair." He quieted, but his face still reflected what looked like pain.

When the nurse finished her job, she decided not to put a gown on him so as not to bother him further. She gave him gentle encouragement and walked towards the door, taking one last glance at the illustrious patient. She thought that these might be the Hospital's last quiet moments before Todd's gruesome act hit the press in the morning.

* * *

Viki approached Todd who lay quietly, sleeping still. Her heart physically ached at the sight of him. She leaned in close, placing her hand on his head, and said, "Can you hear me? It's Viki."

His head jerked a little as she stood back up and she moved her hand to his shoulder, keeping her eyes downcast. "I'm so sorry I didn't stay with you," she said in a low tone. "I never should have walked out this afternoon. I should have fought you harder. I hope you'll forgive me."

Kevin looked on, thankful Viki was spared a memory of Todd's bloodied body in the emergency room … or at the Penthouse. He watched her comfort Todd, how she touched him. So far, she'd not lost herself to his pain - she was still here and still in control. Kevin hoped she would stay that way. Sam came up to him, finally asking what Kevin knew.

Taking a seat next to the bed while Kevin and Sam talked quietly, Viki studied Todd's features a while. She could still see the shadows beneath his eyes, could still see his thinness. Her eyes wandered down his neck, down his blanketed body. When she reached the spot where his arm closest to her would be, she lifted the side of the blanket to see the bandages, to see the damage. Without her knowledge, Dr. Wolek stood silently at the door.

As Viki lifted the blanket, tears welled at the bandaging. Shaking her head, about to cover him back up, she caught sight of several smallish, red shapes on the side of Todd's stomach. She furrowed her brows in perplexity and pushed the blanket further back, exposing more marks on his abdomen, a few reaching further down. Kevin and Sam stopped talking, concerned about what Viki was distressing over.

"The hell…?" she murmured.

Dr. Wolek slipped in next to Viki and held her shoulder as she turned to him, a questioning look on her face while still lifting the blanket slightly. Dr. Wolek looked back at her, knowing her question and said, "Self-mutilation."

"What?"

"The markings. Cigarette burns. About 20 of them on his chest, abdomen . . . and ... in the genital area." The doctor had decided to make that last piece known, hoping to shock the family into telling secrets they knew about Manning. Those secrets...might be the key to saving his life.

Viki dropped the blanket and started trembling uncontrollably, bringing her hands to her face, "Oh dear Lord!"

Kevin thought he would be sick, never having heard of such a thing in his life. He turned around and looked out the window into the black night.

Sam, standing at the door, sat down roughly on a chair that happened to be next to him. He knew of self-mutilation, also referred to as self-harm or self-injury, and was aware that it was very commonly seen among rape or abuse victims, sexual or otherwise. The guilt grew about ten times.

"What have you been doing?" Viki implored, looking at Todd's face. Turned to the doctor. "Why would he do that to himself, Larry? Why?"

Kevin remained quiet, allowing his mother to ask the questions.

Dr. Wolek conjectured the best he could, "Sometimes people need to punish themselves for deeds they feel somehow responsible for. Sometimes, there's a need to make themselves unappealing to potential abusers. Still, for others, they like the pain, or feel a release of tension. Whatever his reasons, this isn't something he's been doing for a long time. They're relatively new, perhaps only months old. I don't see any old scars. This tends to make me think that they are the result of some recent trauma or delusion, perhaps during psychotic episodes." He looked at all of them. "What do you know?"

Kevin shook his head, "You got me, Doc."

"I don't know anything," Viki said. "Just that… he's been… so… sad."

Sam stayed silent.

Viki reached out and held Todd's arm for a moment before inquiring further. "What can you tell me about his other injuries?"

"He cut veins and arteries in both arms. His left arm had some muscle and tendon damage as well. He'll recover from these physical injuries with no lasting damage provided there's adequate physical therapy." Dr. Wolek explained the best he could considering the state of shock his listeners were in. "He nearly died because of the heavy blood loss. Went into cardiac arrest once he arrived in Emergency."

Sam groaned, reminded of the incident, and Kevin sighed a quiet, "Oh hell."

Viki only listened, her lips pursed, controlling her emotions.

Dr. Wolek looked at Todd's medical file, flipping through some papers. "As soon as he wakes up, he'll be transferred to Llanview Psych. In fact . . . we just got an emergency order to have Todd placed under mandatory treatment. Signed by Judge Campbell. He'll need the time. This was… very serious."

At the sound of the name, Sam perked up, incredulous as to how an order for psychiatric treatment could get back so fast. Something was definitely up with that Judge, Sam speculated before diving back into his dark ruminations.

The group's quiet observation and discussion continued on. The Hospital moved along with its business, waiting for morning when it would be bombarded with reporters asking about the famed Todd Manning attempting suicide.

**To be continued…..**


	3. Chapter 3

**On the Edge of Wakefulness**

**Chapter 3**

Midnight clicked into place on the wall clock, several long hours since Todd came out of surgery. He was quiet, save for the occasional facial or muscular twitch punctuated by a soft moan. Kevin sat across the room ... waiting, watching. He had largely recovered from the immediate shock of finding him but was now left with something else. Something like disorientation, discombobulation, daze.

He'd gone home to change, clean up the blood. Kissed Cassie goodbye, thankful for her in his life, and returned to the still-sleeping patient. He'd decided to stay at the hospital, for his mom. "I don't want him to wake up to a strange face," she had said. "Even if he may not be very happy about seeing yours, at least he'll know he's home." Viki and Sam had left, with the purpose of contacting Blair.

As he began his vigil, Kevin wondered why Todd had done it. He felt guilty, but should he? To do something so violent over a newspaper article made no sense, unless Todd really had done something to Michelle and was afraid to be found out. Like Kevin was thinking. Like what his article was suggesting.

Except his chosen method was no guarantee of death. Had he really opted for a coward's way out… he'd have eaten a bullet. And really, if this was how he dealt with bad acts, he'd have done it ages ago when it became clear he was going to be convicted for Marty's rape. No answers ... only a sick feel in his stomach. Kept hearing Dr. Wolek say, "Self-mutilation." Christ. The attack on his own body was loads of self-mutilation beyond those little burns.

Who was Todd Manning? The man on the bed was very different from the man Kevin spent years positively HATING. Hence, disorientation.

Nurses checked Todd's vitals and put a gown on him, skillfully avoiding the tubes, wires and bandages. Todd was then restrained to the bed, straps across his belly and chest, straps on his ankles. It seemed cruel. Dr. Wolek noted, "It's for his own safety. FTFs don't like finding themselves alive." FTFs, Kevin asked? "Sorry, med slang. Failure to fly… failed suicides." Despite the foreboding about WHY Todd would need restraints, Kevin's disorientation started to clarify, fog clearing on the highway. He may not understand the WHY of what happened, but he did have new job that Todd himself had given him:

_Hey, sorry about making you do this job. I thought you were the best choice - didn't want them to find the body. _

Kevin leaned back sleepily, legs outstretched. Yeah, new work. The job of finding Todd.

* * *

Todd dreamed of attending the circus with his mother, Barbara. Her glossy, luxurious hair was long, reaching to the middle of her back. She wore a green-colored pantsuit. He was four years old and held her hand, in awe of the massive tent they were in, yet a tiny bit fearful of the crowd. They walked to their seats ten rows up. Todd watched the red curtain at the far end of the single-ringed tent, anticipating its opening. He licked his lips, feeling thirsty, looking for the people shouting out offerings for the crowd, "Get your popcorn here! Soda! Ice cream!"

The voices didn't come from any specific place but rather from all directions. So much noise it shook his body. He giggled a little and rubbed an ear. His mother turned and picked him up, smiling at him, and sat him on a seat.

She said, "You're so beautiful, my little one." Rubbed a finger on the tip of his nose.

He looked down at his dangling feet, wondering if he might fall. He reached a hand to his mother and touched her elbow. She turned and laughed, knowing he was scared. She said, "Don't worry. It's going to be fun, my love," and put her arm around his shoulders, giving him a squeeze. How he adored her. Even in this dreamy recall.

When the curtain parted, out came a parade of clowns and animals and trapeze artists, music blaring. Todd's eyes were huge with wonder – he'd never seen such a sight in his life! He watched as they paraded in front of him, jumping, juggling, and running. Todd could not move from his place on the hard folding chair. His swung his feet, one shoe untied.

The parade ended and the Ringmaster came out in a colorful tuxedo, shouting into a microphone, "Welcome, welcome to the Circus of Circuses!" By the time he walked off stage, the trapeze family was flying above his head, swinging, catching, being caught. Music played… but then... the Grim Reaper appeared, sitting across the ring directly in front of Todd, grinning and laughing beneath the trapeze artists.

Just as quickly as Death himself had appeared, Todd found himself on the edge of a trapeze platform, the night sky surrounding him instead of a tent. He was no longer a child. When he looked below him, instead of the sawdust floor or a net he stared at a wild river, hundreds of feet down. He was wearing faded jeans, a tee-shirt and a flannel shirt from ... from when?

He inched away from the ledge, backwards, reaching behind him for the pole that held the platform up. Terror gripped him, a memory whispered by. He turned around quickly at the sensation and found himself facing Death in the flesh. He wore an ugly smile. His hair, black as the starless night that covered them, was pulled back into a long ponytail, tied with several squirming worms. Black pants, alive and moving, slithered. His sheer white shirt revealed chalky white skin, blood coursing through blue and green veins, the faintest sound of the condemned rising through his hideous skin. His eyes were nothing but black pupils surrounded by blood, and his mouth a slash of bloody lips.

Todd, terrified, prayed for salvation, "God help me."

Death winced, "What, you think he's going to come and rescue you now? You think he will beam down and pluck you up like a babe drowning in an icy river, just because you asked?" Death laughed loudly and chillingly. Todd closed his eyes, remembering an equally frightening voice from his past. Death walked closer, sneering and pushing him to the edge, "You are not going to make it Thomas Todd Manning. You are going to pay for all your sins a hundredfold." Death bared his teeth, revealing more than the usual number of sharp points. "And guess who is waiting for you… in hell?"

Todd shook his head, knowing the answer, inching closer and closer to the edge of the platform. "No ... no ... no he isn't ...," he panted.

"Yes ... yes ... yes he is. Your dearly departed Daddy, Peter Manning, is so very eager."

Todd started falling, watching the water approach him fast and furiously, his body scrambling to avoid the contact. He heard another voice call for him as he fell, a sweet, promising voice. He tried to touch it ...

...but then he hit the water, hit the black, and splintered into a million pieces.

* * *

Kevin woke hard, his catnap interrupted by a gravelly and angry scream tinged with sheer terror. Todd thrashed against the restraints, pulling wildly, desperately. Because his upper arms were under the strap across his chest rather than his wrists, he reached with his hands, his head back, his whole body straining. It was a horrible sight. Kevin got to his feet, got near the bed, seeing a level of madness beyond all memory. Couldn't help but think, _he's possessed_.

Todd growled at Kevin when he caught his stare.

"What am I doing here?! Untie these ropes! UNTIE THESE ROPES, YOU MOTHERFUCKER! Why am I here, why am I here, WHY?!"

He tried to kick his legs free of the straps that held him. Veins in his neck were popping, muscles in his shoulders and upper arms flexed as he pulled and shouted to be set free. But then he switched to a mewling, crying, "Ohhhhh God ... he's still inside of me ... nooo ... untie me ... untie me," Todd whimpered now, arching his back against the chest restraint and slowly rolling his head against the pillow.

Dr. Wolek had predicted anger, even rage, but this was something else entirely. Maybe the anesthesia was doing this, maybe the loss of blood ... or ... his heart stopping ... Kevin fought a wave of queasiness. He put his hands out, trying to talk to to him, "Hey, Uncle Todd, it's ok… uh you want me to get some-"

"GET ME OUT OF HERE, YOU FUCKING BASTARD!"

Kevin jumped back, startled by the explosion of anger.

"You're working with him, I know it. I KNOW YOU'RE IN ON IT! You want to kill me, don't you?! Well, you're not gonna get to! He dies FIRST! Do you get me?! I'LL KILL HIM FIRST!" Todd then switched moods, moaning and writhing, pleading, "Please, he's inside me and he's hurting me. I want to be with her, please … come on, come on, untie the ropes, let me loose! LET ME LOOSE!"

"Todd!" Kevin bent slightly towards him, trying to get him to focus. "Try to calm down ... are you ... uh ... in pain?"

He hawked at that, spitting slime at Kevin who flew back, his hand wiping the wetness. "Shit!"

"GET ME OUTTA HERE!"

Kevin couldn't seem to help so he headed to the door and yanked it open, calling down the hall to an attendant. "Hey! Can you get a doctor, please?!"

Swallowing hard, he stepped back inside, really damn thankful his mother wasn't here to witness this.

"You, you, you…! LISTEN TO ME!" Todd argued. "He's gonna get out and he's gonna kill me and then he'll kill everyone else! GOD, you have to help me, you have to help me!" His voice changed, dropping into a mimic of convincing, working to get Kevin to help him, "Untie me ... untie me ... right here ... look, see? It's so easy … buckles, they're nothing but buckles..."

Although he looked at Kevin with wild desperation, Kevin got the distinct impression that he did not recognize him. At that moment, a doctor came into the room, file in hand, wearing a cheerful expression, "Good evening, Mr. Manning. I see you're awake. I could hear you down the hall. I'm Dr. Timothy Graham. You can call me Tim."

Tim Graham had a full head of strawberry blond hair which curled messily atop a tallish, hulking frame. Although his face appeared youthful, the crow's feet at the corners of his blue eyes revealed his true age to be in the early forties. His Birkenstock sandals, the light brown round-framed glasses and medium-blue denim jeans covered with a loose cream-colored cotton sweater infused with light blue threads, confirmed him to be a California native. The most noticeable thing about Dr. Graham, though, was this eternal optimism shining through his professional yet relaxed demeanor.

Both Todd and Kevin looked at their visitor, surprised by his sudden entry into their ring. Todd, boosted at seeing a new rescuer, began to shake with fury at the doctor, demanding, "YOU! Let me outta here, untie me! You're all gonna pay for gettin' in my way! LET ME LOOSE!" He continued to thrash about, yelling out a blur of frustrated cries, sprinkled with enraged obscenities.

The doctor studied his observers briefly: one on the bed, snarling as he continued to struggle with the restraints and emitting a pained cry every so often, the other standing still with eyes big and questioning. "Well, let's get started ... I'm from the University of California Medical School at Davis. And I've been appointed to be your attending physician, Mr. Manning."

Todd was still breathing heavily but looked like he was starting to exhaust himself, his eyes closing every so often, his breath hard and his body just going limp at points, "Please do something," he moaned, 'just do something. Why'd you tie me up? Don't you know what you're DOING?! You're asking for Armageddon YOU FUCKERS!" Todd then screamed out in frustration, wordless, agonized yelling.

Dr. Graham put the files he carried on the counter. He went up to Todd, placed his right hand on the side of Todd's head. Todd tried to get away from the touch, straining, but the doctor went ahead and flashed a penlight into his eyes several times, "Ok, Mr. Manning, do you know where you are?"

Todd jerked his head away from the doctor, his eyes moving all about the room, landing on everything, staying on nothing. "Oh he's here, he's here, oh yeah, he's here..." Todd was breathless and continued to struggle, moans interrupting his few coherent sentences.

"Do you know what year it is?" Dr. Graham carefully moved the blanket that covered Todd, pushing it down slightly. Todd didn't react to that.

But when the doctor lifted the gown, presumably to see the wounds Dr. Wolek mentioned, Todd screamed bloody murder, "What are you doing?! Get away from me! No! I SAID NO! STOP TOUCHING ME! DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME!"

Tim pulled back hard. "Whoa. I'm just going to examine you. Your file says that you have some other injuries. Can I just look? I won't touch." There was no response, no awareness. Todd screamed like someone was killing him. The doctor backed off. He nodded, furrowed his brows. Pushed the blanket up.

Todd disappeared into his nightmare again, straining again against the straps, crying real tears, groaning like a cat in a trap. Tim watched him struggle a few moments with that same look of concern. A face full of deep empathy. This was not a man who took his work lightly, or took his patients for granted.

Todd continued to pull himself against the straps, desperate to get away from an imagined attack, "No! Get away, you bastard, you sick, sick bastard! STOP TOUCHING ME!"

The doctor checked Todd's bandages and restraints, asking with a very matter-of-fact tone, "Todd, can you tell me what city you were born in?" He noted the various monitors and then looked back at Todd thrashing about and literally growling. He waited for a response, "Todd?"

The patient was oblivious to the questions, continuing to rage at his faceless, nameless observers, and jerking violently at his restraints.

"I gotta get outta here! Untie me! Untie me! He's gonna KILL me! He's KILLING me! Ohhh … you fucked this up ... you did, you did ... gimme my blade ... give it back to me!"

The doctor turned and pressed the intercom next to the door, "Uh, yeah, get me the sedative we talked about. Thanks." The doctor had gone to the counter and started writing some notes in the file.

Todd stiffened his entire body, grimacing as if in severe pain, "Ohhhh…..Satan's inside of me ... oh I can feel him crawling and moving and he's gonna kill me. Ohhhh I gotta do it first ... I have to kill 'im... ohhhh..." He writhed against the straps, his features twisting, his face wet from sweat and tears now. The bed shook with a sudden onset of violent trembling, "You have to help me kill him ... please, please, please ... oh god, oh god ... I can feel him inside of me ... please please please please…"

Dr. Graham stopped his writing and was leaning on the counter. He listened to Todd with his eyebrows furrowed like before, concentrating on the disclosures.

"I bet that's why you cut yourself, huh, Todd?" The doctor said this more to himself than anyone who might be listening. But Todd sort of answered Tim's question, Tim's eyebrows raising, surprised.

"Yeah, yeah, it's the only way, don't you see? He's killing me, then he'll be killing everyone else ... Armageddon, Armageddon ... oh please, please, it's not fair ... I don't want him to eat me up ... don't let him do that ... I have to get to him and then I can be with Michelle and my mom and Georgie."

Kevin looked up at that, drawn to Todd's mention of Michelle's and Georgie's names. But nothing else of import followed.

"Ohhh they're waiting for me... don't you get that? Don't you understand? Don't you? Don't let me die like this, let me at him… let me do something good for once… please please please…." Todd was so sad now, crying, tears flowing freely. He cried so hard he could hardly breathe.

Kevin looked away, finding his own eyes wetting. He'd never seen Todd like this before, never knew he was even capable of crying. He cursed at the sheer raw emotion, knowing it would switch to mad rage in an instant.

"Yeah, I understand, Todd. I do," the doctor said empathetically. "We're going to help you. I promise. You just have to be patient." The doctor moved back to Todd, his hands on the railing, asking, "Todd, are you on any drugs?"

Of course there was no response. He shifted to the screaming again at seeing the doctor, the fighting beginning again, the cursing.

A young attendant came in with a metal container in her hand. She picked up a syringe and seeing Dr. Graham approve the medication she said she had, applied it to Todd's intravenous line. She waited, watching to see if Todd would calm. He did. He immediately began to show the effects of the sedative, his voice quieting, his muscles relaxing, "Ohhh - you don't know what it's like to be eaten alive ... it hurts ... it hurts ... oh, Michelle, I'm so sorry ... why am I still here ... lemme finish the job ... you fucking fucking bastards ..."

The calm seemed to flow visibly from head to toe. He closed his eyes, fighting to keep them open, but having no chance of it. "Ok, ok," he murmured, "I'll be good. I'll be better. I'm sorry, I'm sorry ..." Moaning softly, he closed his eyes, unable to fight for the time being.

Dr. Graham nodded at the nurse, "He's ready. Let's move him."

Kevin flopped down on the chair and covered his face with his hands. After a moment, he looked at the doctor who was standing over Todd once again and asked, "What the hell is wrong with him? This is not the Todd Manning that we've all come to know and love. I mean, I've called him a lunatic on occasion, well, maybe on a lot of occasions, but this ... this is a different thing altogether."

The doctor turned to Kevin, smiling sympathetically, "A little scary?"

"Yeah, scary as hell. And really sad and let me tell you I never feel sad for this guy."

"He's not a nice person?"

"You don't read the news much do you?"

"Haven't been in Llanview long."

"Yeah, well, he's not a nice guy. So what's wrong with him?"

"Mr. Manning is delusional, confused, and paranoid. He doesn't respond to my questions appropriately, but ... unfortunately, I can't tell you the cause right now. I'm thinking this is drug-induced but I don't see puncture marks or real deterioration or any other typical presentation of USE but we're not done with a full tox screen. We've run some initial neuro tests which are coming up negative. We'll do more tomorrow. So … we'll have to consider other psychological disorders like bipolar disorder or late-onset schizoid disorder. It could be a lot of things based on his file."

The doctor paused, appearing to be lost in thought. Then he continued in a softer tone, "Whatever it is, he _is_ in a lot of danger. With this type of delusion, he will kill himself if left to his own devices, I can assure you of that. The messages he's receiving are overpowering and impossible to fight from his position. What he feels, what he believes is happening, is very real to him."

"What do we do?"

"We keep him. With drug therapy and psychotherapy, maybe then we can get to the bottom of this. So, tell me, who are you?"

"He's my uncle."

"Well, get strapped in. You're in for a long ride."

* * *

"He did what?!" Blair's voice shot through the crisp air in the doorway to her Aunt Dorian's home.

"He tried to kill himself—"

"I know what you said!" She turned around and stormed back into the foyer.

"I was hoping that you'd ... help him, maybe -"

"Help?! You're kidding, right?!"

"No ... no, I'm not. I don't want him to think he's alone-"

"Viki! Newsflash! He IS alone! Todd's been...so damn self-absorbed that, guess what, if he dies, I WON'T CARE. It's obviously something he wants and who am I to get in his way?! At least I'll be able to get on with my life and give Starr a stable life instead of this roller coaster!" Blair yelled out a frustrated wordless sound.

Viki hadn't really anticipated what Blair's reaction would be but felt it was better to tell her about Todd in person than over the telephone. She had been so tired and had already put off telling Blair for well over an hour. She also decided to do it alone so she sent Sam home.

"Do you at least want me to call you when I find out more?"

"Don't bother." Standing in front of Viki, she rubbed her temples in aggravation. When she saw Viki's saddened expression, Blair tried to explain, "Look, I can't get sucked back into this cycle again. There was a time when I thought I could comfort him ... that his problems, our problems, wouldn't matter because WE had money and ... a house. I used to think we were _saner_ together ... stronger together ... but I was wrong. I have no effect on him. Nothing does. So it's up to me. I have to look out for myself and our daughter, since he's chosen something ELSE to do."

"Blair, you can't hide."

"Hiding?! Who's hiding? That's Todd's m.o. I'm surviving!"

"Honey, 'surviving' and 'getting better' are not the same, trust me, I know. But sometimes, 'hiding' and 'surviving' are interchangeable."

"Then why am I NOT lying in some hospital, cut up?! No, Viki, I'm surviving, he's been hiding. I AM better because I have to be. And if he doesn't feel surviving is important ... then why the hell should I bother with him? Why the hell should I drag our precious little girl into his nightmare? Again?!"

Viki sighed, trying to understand. She nodded a goodbye and left Blair to deal with her anger, with her hurt.

Once home, Viki sat in the library in front of a comforting fire. She stared at the flames leaping and waving, thinking of Blair. She realized Todd had spent much of the last years battling her in court, out of court. She knew the time they spent together before that as a couple had been difficult with messy ups and downs. Although not an easy wife, Blair had been important to Todd in that she'd been part of his unorthodox gateway to the proverbial straight line which seemed to evade him. Having a wife, a child, money … it was all part of his search for acceptance.

_A convicted rapist_.

She knew Todd had had therapy while in jail to deal with his crimes. Viki had once wondered what he and Blair dealt with from a sexual point of view. She wondered if his past affected his personal life. Viki knew what _she_ had to deal with as a rape victim with regards to her marital duties. Surely, the instigator would have difficulties, too. Surely, a man who raped someone would have confusion or ... fear ... or ... something when dealing with normal sexual activity. But, based on the fact that they had a daughter, she assumed Todd had gotten past whatever issues compelled him to rape Marty.

_A rapist_. She remembered reading that many rapists have been sexually abused at some point in their life. She also remembered NOT applying that theory to Todd. He was different, he was too powerful a force to have been a victim. He was a man. MEN are instigators, not victims. There were times she doubted he was even ever a child.

The truth was, Viki personally avoided thinking of WHY he raped. Anger, she had said and moved on. But now there was no hiding from the "why." Now, she thought perhaps his criminal conduct was evidence of something much darker than just _anger_. The burns on his private areas screamed sexual abuse. And that hurt. She didn't want to think of her brother as having been victimized ... like she had been.

She shuddered at the memory of those burns, so many of them. Such intentional work. What state of mind can someone be in to consciously light a cigarette and place it against skin? Holding it there long enough to burn through? The concept horrified her and the image of Todd doing this to himself just plain broke her.

On the other hand, didn't Todd always self-mutilate? Always wrecking his life at some point or another, intentionally? Whatever the cause, it would mean a hellish recovery. She sighed and hoped that sexual abuse would not intrude into the Lord family once again. She hoped that wasn't part of the "why."

Viki watched those flames burn before her and found herself crying. She cried for her own past pain and she cried knowing that Todd had been all alone in utter agony thinking that the only way out was through his death. My God ... what secret is he hiding from?

* * *

The next morning, as Kevin slept, he dreamed he was being chased by a monstrous tiger. His foot caught the underbrush in the nighttime wood causing him to fall. There on the ground, he lay facing Todd's decaying body, his face contorted by death. Kevin was trapped by a creeping vine beginning to wrap itself around him and he could not escape his horrific discovery. Just as the approaching creature was about to pounce on him, he woke up.

As husband and wife ate their breakfast in their cheery kitchen, Kevin read the investigator's report which Todd had so dramatically given him. He learned that Michelle had committed suicide by throwing herself into the New River in West Virginia, a river distinguished by harsh white rapids. He breathed out a heavy sigh, closing his eyes. This had to have played a significant role in Todd's decision to kill himself. A copy suicide? Or was it guilt? That somehow HE had contributed to her suicide by whatever it was he had done to her?

Those questions led to a more basic one: who was Michelle to Todd and could she speak to Kevin from 'beyond the grave'? Kevin knew what he was going to do with his day, with the next few weeks of his life. Perhaps the blood on his hands would be washed clean. He still felt guilty. It was still Kevin who had uncovered the "Michelle Factor." Maybe if the thing had stayed buried, Todd wouldn't have done what he did.

On the other hand, maybe Michelle was a needed event. There are no coincidences in life. Maybe uncovering Michelle NOW would help Todd in the long run.

* * *

Sam went down to the courthouse to pull Todd's file on his forced commitment to Llanview Psychiatric Hospital. He wasn't surprised to find the file sealed by Judge Austin Campbell. How many other files are ordered sealed by that Judge, he wondered? Not that Todd wasn't fit for hospitalization - he was more than fit.

Sam poked his head into the law library, considering his plan for the morning. He ran his eyes across the shelves occupied by brilliant texts of the greatest legal minds and wished they could help him understand what happened. Guilt ate at him. He'd known Todd since he was a boy. And fact is, he stood by in silence many times during Todd's life even though he knew he was in trouble. Peter had actually called him after Marty's rape, and said, "Have you heard what my stupid son has done? Can you get out there? Be his defense?" Sam had turned him down. Said to use a local attorney. Always better than to get a big city lawyer. Now, though, he wondered, was he ever really Todd's friend?

Sam left the library and headed directly for the End of the Road Cocktail Lounge, a sleazy bar right outside the city limits of Llanview. Always open, always waiting for sick-hearted souls to come in and leave the cross they bear at the door, their money on the counter. A vision of scotch and whiskey in short thick glasses made his mouth water and the pain lessen. He drove a little too fast. Better now to break speeding laws than when drunk.

As he drove out of Llanview, he noticed about 10 reporters hounding Dr. Larry Wolek for information in front of the hospital. God, he thought, and pressed his foot on the gas harder.

**To Be Continued …**


	4. Chapter 4

**On the Edge of Wakefulness**

**Chapter 4**

Light filtered into Todd's room, shadows tiling the floor next to his bed. It had been two days since Todd tried to end his life. Now he lay awake, deeply entrenched in another world. He was uncommunicative, fearful, easily agitated, and often engaged in a whispered dialogue where he vowed to win his battle with Satan. At other times, he would be completely still, eyes open, frozen in a moment only he could see.

He wore loose cotton pajama bottoms and a plain white tee. No socks. He favored a fetal position on his right side. The bandaged arm on which he lay was stretched out in front of him. The other more heavily bandaged arm was folded, covering the side of his head, perhaps trying to quiet sounds which only he heard.

The room was a pastel blue, trimmed with white wood molding. A small antique secretary, bolted down, decorated one wall next to a large double-hung window. The bars on the outside of the glass revealed the true nature of the room. There were two framed watercolor prints of lake scenes bolted to the wall next to one another. One small wooden chair, boasting four legs and a straight back, sat at the secretary.

The room had a viewing window which allowed someone to monitor him. There was a small bathroom next to a closet which allowed for a few belongings to be kept, although there usually weren't too many. Next to the door, there was a control panel that operated the intercom. There was no television since, often, persons with severe mental illness thought the television transmitted more than taped entertainment.

Viki stood outside the window of Todd's room and leaned her forehead against the glass, watching her debilitated brother. One arm was folded against her heart as if holding it together. Her black leather purse hung from her shoulder, her yellow knit skirt and top showing a classic taste in clothing and a serious constitution. She wore small pearl earrings and a delicate gold wedding band on her right hand, in memory of her late husband, Sloan Carpenter. Her blond hair was coiffed neatly, short yet full, framing a conservatively made-up, attractive face.

Dr. Timothy Graham approached her slowly, not wanting to startle her out of her study, "Mrs. Carpenter?"

Viki straightened up, startled nevertheless, "Yes, but please call me Viki." She extended her hand.

He reached for her hand, both his hands holding hers. "Tim Graham. Nice to meet you. Sorry we couldn't talk yesterday."

"No problem."

"Talk in my office?"

Viki took a last lingering look at Todd and then followed Tim compliantly, her head down.

"It's been somewhat hectic here with my recent move from Davis. Can't seem to stop working long enough to get settled." He chuckled. "Anyways, I understand you're Todd's sister and, am I right, you also hold an advanced health directive for him, so you have decision-making abilities?"

Viki nodded in response, just as they reached his office. They both got comfortable. He worked in a cozy place with books piled up in the corners, a computer with an artistic screen saver running, and a practical oak desk on which lay medical files next to a pencil holder, desk calendar, and a single framed photograph.

"Well," he started, "as you can see, your brother is still in a deeply delusional state. He thinks a satanic type entity 'lives inside' of him and the only way to get rid of it is to kill it, which means he has to kill himself."

Viki knew about the Satan fixation. Kevin told her. He told her everything yesterday in her office where she'd buried herself in work. Yes, hiding and sick. Tim Graham apologized for not being available but the truth was… she was too emotionally ill to come in. Didn't feel ready to hear what was happening to her brother. She'd gotten little sleep because the more research she did on self-injury, the more she learned about why rapists rape, the more convinced she was that Todd had suffered the same kind of life she had. And the same way she had suffered a breakdown at a late age, Todd appeared to be going through the same thing.

Viki avoided Tim's direct gaze, instead noticing a few dents in the wood next to the black desk blotter.

"Preliminary tests don't show a chemical basis for his condition as of yet. But we can't rule out drugs yet."

Viki's glanced up, interrupted by a sudden image of street-pushers and prostitutes selling sex for a hit. "Drugs? He's never used drugs that I know of." Knowing she sounded like a typical "mother" in denial, she noticed a silver band on Tim's left forefinger. Wondered about his own history.

Smiling gently at Viki's immediate rejection of the drug possibility, he continued, "Its something we have to check on. This came on too suddenly and sudden onset makes me think drugs. But we're still considering biochemical disorders. Still have to rule out causes such as a brain tumor."

Viki's eyes wandered Tim's office, studying the cockeyed pictures on his wall, probably left behind from the previous occupant.

Tim went on, seeing the disconnect in Viki. She was deeply bothered. He tried to speak gently. "So . . . at this point, we're diagnosing him with brief psychotic disorder with delusions, a general term saying we have no idea what's going on but we know that it came on suddenly and might disappear just as suddenly."

Viki took a breath and redirected her eyes to the doctor, "Now what?"

"Our first goals are safety and stabilization. He's at risk of attempting suicide again. As I told Kevin, he may be hallucinatory, but those visions are real to him. Right now, he's not on any medication other than an occasional sedative when he gets too violent. We've got to detox him to rule out any possibility that this is chemically-induced. A benefit of letting the delusional state continue is revelation - his delusions might tell me what's going on."

"Kevin said he was… restrained?"

"Yeah, he needed them when he woke up, and needed them all day yesterday. Very safe, not uncomfortable. Today, though he's quieter."

Viki watched a curl that lifted awkwardly away from the rest of Tim's hair. She cleared her throat and looked at her hands, "Dr. Wolek told me that he has been ... burning himself using ... cigarettes." She closed her eyes briefly. Returned to her study of the uncooperative lock of hair.

"Yeah, I saw them. Too early to tell what that's about. All in time."

"What if you can't pull him out of this, what if -"

"Let's not play 'what if'. Let's just go day by day." Tim looked at Viki carefully.

She sighed, "Is there anything I can do for him?"

"Nothing now. Keep in touch with me. He'll need a lot of support from people who care about him. Suicidal people generally are plagued with an extremely low sense of self-worth; they need to know that they have value, here, alive. The best way is to be surrounded by people who can assure them of that value." Tim smiled, his eyes bright and hopeful.

"Thank you. I feel like he's in good hands." Viki smiled weakly, noticing the picture on the desk, that of a dark-haired man whose head tilted affectionately toward Tim, the two in a bearhug. They were both laughing and looking at the photographer. There certainly was a lot of love in the make-up of the doctor.

"Doctor, I know how these places work. You'll spend one hour a day, if that… I want to pay you for your undivided attention to him. Drop other patients, drop whatever barriers are in your way. I want my brother well. Please… help him. Will you accommodate me?"

Tim studied Viki, nodded. How could he say no to her? "I'll do whatever I can. Of course."

* * *

Blair replaced the telephone back into its cradle, having just finished talking with Dr. Graham. She got an earful. No real answers. He was alive and that's all she really cared about at this point. Blair sat with Starr and brushed her hair, a pleasure often interrupted by giggles of her little girl.

Starr, Todd's pride and joy. Blair worried whether mental illness would affect her life one day. First, the Cramer madness running through Blair's bloodlines and now Todd's own mental illness.

"Mommy, can we see Aunt Viki tomorrow? She promised me roses."

"Of course."

Truth was, Blair knew about Todd's _emotional difficulties_. While he'd distanced himself from those dark Marty Saybrooke days, he still had a monster inside of him.

She recalled times where their passion got… rough. She could feel his intense titillation, see fire in his eyes, an erection that had come from that… _passion_. She wouldn't have any of it. She'd take control, overpower him, by letting him know she was not his victim, she was NOT Marty. He would break like a puppy, the violence fading, becoming passive again, submissive. It was how they worked.

But there was a cost.

Afterwards, he would roam the Penthouse tortured and sickened that the animal arose in him again and he could have "hurt" someone he loved. She'd watch him, seeing true pain. She'd leave him alone. Morning would bring a new man, one so passive that she could never understand how that person could ever have raped anyone. He was so ... easy, he would let her do everything. She figured it was Marty's fault what happened to her. She didn't know how to handle him, unlike Blair.

She thought when they were together, he was "better," that somehow she had "fixed" him. Until the end.

Truth was… their was never real trust in their relationship. She had tainted his ability to trust her starting with her love of Cord Roberts and ending with her love of Patrick Thornhart. She fought so hard for so long to convince Todd they were true and she was his one true love... but it never worked. How could it? For every act proving her trustworthiness, she committed ten acts to disprove it. She closed her eyes, pain clenching her heart, and held a squirming Starr close to her. Would Todd be able to return to his daughter, could he return to a "normal' life, one which he so desperately wanted?

Today… she did not think so.

* * *

Kevin Buchanan stretched his legs as he walked off the plane in Charleston, West Virginia, feeling the cool autumn breeze. He looked down at his notes, including the investigator's report, and sighed, burdened with this self-imposed duty he needed to carry out: finding Todd.

First step...uncover Michelle Chant, beginning with her parents. According to records, they moved from Chicago in her fourteenth year to the Charleston suburbs.

Once off the plane, he rented a Jeep and headed to the Jasper Woods neighborhood. Parked in front of the Chant home. Kevin had spoken to Mrs. Chant the previous day and she said she would meet, albeit reluctantly. She didn't understand why a Pennsylvania news reporter would want to talk about Michelle. There was nothing to say.

He rang the doorbell of the two-story mountain-type home. The door opened, revealing a mature woman with short brown hair and traces of freckles across her nose. While dressed casually, each accessory adorning her thin body and each strand of hair lay perfectly in place. She smiled stiffly and introduced herself.

"You must be Kevin. I'm Beatrice Chant."

Kevin reached to shake her hand, saying, "Thank you for seeing me."

Mrs. Chant did not offer hers in return, turning immediately. "Come in. Would you like tea or something?"

"No, thanks. Don't want to take too much of your time." Kevin smiled, following the woman to a quaint living room decorated with antiques and family pictures. A stereo and T.V. occupied one corner of the room faced by a cozy sofa and matching recliner on the opposite corner. A carefully-tended garden was visible through large French doors on one end of the room.

Kevin sat on the sofa, sinking deep into the cushions. Mrs. Chant sat across from him on a hard leather-bound bench. "Several months ago, a young woman was murdered in our city under terrible circumstances."

"Oh my," she said, maintaining that same coldness.

"I thought that a particular individual had something to do with it so I investigated his background. I learned he'd been good friends with your daughter. Do you know Todd Manning?"

Mrs. Chant had an impenetrable blank look and coolly said she didn't know him. She did offer up that Michelle had been a reserved girl and rarely shared anything personal with her. She described a sad girl who lost her real father in a tragic car accident. Charles Chant was Mrs. Chant's second husband and had adopted Michelle.

"In fact, that will always be my deepest sorrow. That she could not share what was in her head with us. As you probably know, she killed herself about eight years ago. Didn't leave a note. Silent until the end." Bitterness colored her words.

"Did she keep a diary or journal or anything that would tell us why she did that?" Kevin asked.

"No," she replied sharply.

"Why did you leave Chicago so suddenly back when she was 14? Did it have something to do with Todd Manning?" The question clearly surprised Mrs. Chant and she became defensive.

"What's it of your business? My daughter is dead. Her relationship with him…" She slammed her mouth shut. She revealed a truth. She DID know Todd and Michelle DID have a relationship with him. Kevin smiled inwardly. He'd caught her.

"I'm sorry," he said. "You see, Mr. Manning has suffered a breakdown of sorts and he's been mentioning your daughter's name. I hoped for some additional information to perhaps better understand his involvement in the murder. I apologize if I've offended you."

Mrs. Chant sighed impatiently, clearly uncomfortable. "Look, something happened to Michelle that year. She was depressed and traumatized. We couldn't help her. We didn't know what had happened and she refused to talk about it. She was a very hardheaded girl. We decided to leave Chicago thinking the change would do her good."

"Did she improve?"

Her eyes flashed annoyance at the continuing interview. "She did, somewhat. But she was never the same again. We tried to get her into therapy many, many times. We . . . did the best we could. We gave that girl everything she could have ever wanted."

Kevin saw a glimmer of a person passing by the open doors of the living room. Mrs. Chant's eyes looked past Kevin for a moment and then returned to him, "One day, she just snapped. She became depressed again, only this time it was to a depth we'd not seen before. She disappeared and the rest is . . . history." Mrs. Chant's voice finally cracked a little and tears welled in her eyes. She put her head down, "I'm sorry." Her voice was hard.

"No, I'm sorry to force you to relive this."

"I relive it every day, Mr. Buchanan." She regained her partial loss of composure and looked coolly at her interviewer. At that moment, someone walked into the room. He turned his head to see the visitor and stopped cold.

He was facing a 15-year-old version of Todd Manning.

"Mr. Buchanan, please meet my son, Jedediah."

_Holy SHIT._

* * *

After a violent splash into the river's glassy skin, Todd sank deep into the black. He touched bottom and water began to rush past him, like the receding tide at an ocean's beach. He lifted himself up, finding himself in a place he thought to be the inside of a . . . volcano? Where did the water go?

He patted himself down, noticing he was dry. He watched oozing hot lava flow past him, around an island of hardened black rock on which he was standing. A rotting, foul smell choked him, indefinable moans encircled him. Todd's bare feet were close to the edge of his small island and he stepped back, moving toward the middle.

He started to sweat so he took off the flannel shirt and threw it away. A rumbling sound rolled through the cave, increasing in loudness and vibration. Todd felt afraid and whipped around to see where the sound was coming from. He grew increasingly terrified. He jumped at a sudden deafening laugh. He covered his ears, trying to block the familiar sound out.

"So you made it down here!" The laugh mocked Todd and he crouched in self-protection. "I am so glad to see you again. It has been a long time. I am looking forward to having you, to be entertained by you once again." The voice howled in sustained laughter, low, deep and threatening.

_Inhuman_.

There was no place to hide here. It suddenly dawned on Todd where he was. He was in Hell, in the glorious presence of Satan himself, Peter Manning.

* * *

Dr. Timothy Graham held Todd from behind on the floor against the wall as he thrashed uncontrollably in the doctor's arms, seemingly unable to breathe and definitely not able to talk. Todd soundlessly banged his head back into Tim's chest, emitting only gasps, rubbing his feet against the floor in desperation to get away. Couldn't escape though. Tim offered verbal assurances, knowing it was useless. He waited for the orderlies.

Running feet pounded down the hall and exploded into the room. Two orderlies emerged, one carrying a syringe. Michael, the bigger guy, held Todd's head to stop him from injuring Tim. Sarah, the second orderly, quickly injected the medicine into Todd's thigh and soon he stopped kicking and butting his head, tears falling quietly. His breathing soon slowed at which point Tim relaxed his hold, leaning against the wall.

"Well, that wasn't exactly productive …" Tim flashed an expression of frustration, speaking more to himself. "All the tests are coming up negative. He's all over the place. Damn."

Todd lay in Tim's arms, motionless and disconnected from everything. His eyes were open, staring at nothing, breathing evenly. Tim explained to the orderlies what had happened. He did this more for his own purposes, so he could sort out the events and better recall them for his report.

"When I came to check on him, he was up and pacing and I thought maybe he pulled out of the psychosis. I tried to get him to respond to me, but he didn't – just continued in his private conversation. Anyway, he got very agitated and began throwing himself against the door to get out. Absolutely terrified."

Sarah kneeled down to talk to Todd, "Todd? You're safe. It's ok, you're ok. Can you get up by yourself?"

Todd remained completely unresponsive. Easily, Michael grabbed Todd beneath his shoulders and Sarah grabbed him by his legs. The two carried him to the bed, placing him gently down. Tim stood up, watched, and mentally made notes, organizing, trying to solve this latest puzzle.

"We'll wait this out a few more days. Then we'll start the gamut of meds and see what works." He rubbed his face, shaking his head, folding his arms across his chest. Todd closed his eyes, curling up into that same fetal position, one arm on the side of his head.

Tim walked down the hall with Michael.

"Hey, I'm not a doctor or anything, but I gotta tell you, his obsession with the devil and all that really reminds me of some people I helped out in L.A. They were methamphetamine addicts and man when they hit big, those devil hallucinations would just...I don't know. It was pretty wild."

"Methamphetamine … well the tox screen will tell us for sure."

"The shit's pretty uncommon here in PA. I don't know if it's part of the routine work-up."

"I'll check on it, thanks." He smiled at his assistant, patting him on the back and getting a modest shrug in response.

Tim looked down and spotted a single strand of Todd's golden hair clinging to his black shirt. He pulled it off and let it twirl gently to the floor.

* * *

Kevin felt as if someone punched him in the gut, seeing Jedediah. Instinct grabbed him by the shoulders, screaming the parentage of Jedediah, and it sure as hell wasn't Beatrice and Charles Chant. The young man looked quizzically at Kevin, "Umm, you here about my … _sister_?"

"Jedediah, go finish your homework. I need to finish up with Mr. Buchanan."

The boy shot an angry look. "Sure, Mom," he snapped, "I get it. 'Kids ought to be seen and not heard.' Hey, maybe I can call you to get some information about-" He gave a spiteful look to his mother, "-breaking into the newspaper business?" Jedediah concluded with a wry smile that was all too familiar to Kevin.

"Sure, yeah, definitely, here's my card. Call the number anytime."

"Hey, thanks."

Kevin smiled and watched Jedediah head back up the stairs, taking two or three steps at a time, indignant as hell. Holy SHIT.

"Spirited kid. I guess to be 15?"

"Yes, almost 16. Are you through, Mr. Buchanan? This has been . . . trying."

"One last question, did Michelle have any good friends that she would have turned to in Chicago or here?"

After a second of irritated reflection, she said, "The only one I remember was a Georgianna, Georgianna Calhoun from Chicago. Odd girl - I never approved of her - but she was one of Michelle's only friends. They didn't talk much after the move, however."

Kevin thanked Mrs. Chant and left with as much information as he was going to get. Michelle and Todd had to have been lovers and Jedediah was the result. It made sense, timewise. Kevin concluded her pregnancy might have been the reason the family left so abruptly in the middle of the school year. Question was, did Todd rape her? Did he know he had a son? Did Jedediah know who his parents really were? And now there was this friend Georgianna Calhoun, another name to follow up on.

Shifting the car into gear, Kevin got back on the road and headed to the small town of Fayetteville, near the place where Michelle jumped to her death. Something must have drawn her there. Maybe he'd get more answers there.

* * *

Kevin awoke in the small town of Fayetteville having reached there late afternoon the previous day. The rapids of the New River were the main attraction so there was an unusually high number of businesses catering to the naturist lifestyle. Fayetteville was at heart a small town. He was still focused on his earlier encounter with Beatrice Chant, especially on the fact that young Jedediah was most likely Todd's son. Of course, there was always the possibility that it was mere coincidence. He shook his head, doubting it, the resemblance too uncanny. He grabbed a quick breakfast in a small cafe and considered his next move in his campaign for the truth: the police station.

After parking his car, Kevin walked into the modest city building. The expressions and attitudes of the officers were suspicious and resentful. Big city folk were not welcome despite the fact that they were a main source of municipal and commercial income. And even though Kevin came from a small town also, Llanview was close enough to Philly to be considered the big city.

The clerk at the front desk barely acknowledged Kevin as he walked up. Gave an impatient, "Yeah?"

"I need information about a suicide of a young girl from Charleston, Michelle Chant?"

"Never heard of her. Plenty of suicides though. Teenagers always throwin' themselves into the river, bungy jumpin' or extreme divin' or somethin'." He began some paperwork and appeared to be finished with the conversation.

"Is it possible I can look at your records and see for myself what you might have?"

"Look, I don't know where ya' come from, but around here, we don't let just any person view our reports. So why don't ya' just move along and let us work?" The clerk returned to his paperwork.

Kevin leaned on the counter and took a breath, turning on an act, "Hey. Come on, guy, cut me a break. I'm working on this project for my boss and he's really . . . ya' know . . . _eager_. Think ya' can get me a sneak look at the reports?" Kevin smiled pleadingly.

The clerk looked around, wary but somewhat sympathetic to Kevin's plight, "Here, tell Jill in the basement that I said it was ok, she'll give ya' the file. But I better see ya' outta here in half an hour or I throw ya' out myself." The clerk looked down, conversation over.

Kevin took the hint and headed for the basement immediately - no wasting time in this place.

The records' secretary, a woman with long nails and big blond hair held up by a gaudy barrette, sat at a small desk in front of a huge darkish room stacked with rows and rows of files. There were large tables to her left, evidently the place for reading.

"Yeah?" She asked without looking up, continuing to check off items on a list in front of her.

"The guy upstairs with the bad attitude, Karl, he said that I could look at a file . . . on a Michelle Chant?"

The secretary looked up, nodded, snapped gum. She scrolled through various screens on her computer monitor, finally landing on one. "Here we go, file number SD897436. This way." When they reached a dark corner in the back of the room, she pulled a rather thin file out of a dilapidated box.

"Here you go," she handed Kevin the file, and split. He walked back to the tables and plopped down. Opened the file. Found himself staring at Michelle Chant.

This… this was Todd's Michelle.

* * *

Lava flowed around the island, the liquid rock fiery and deadly. Todd cowered, shaking his head, "No. No. This isn't real, this isn't real." Peter Manning sat in front of him, mammoth in size, his unmistakable face warped by a grotesque soul, skin crawling and alive. His eyes illuminated yellow. His teeth were black and pointed, all canines. The throne was monstrous, a mildew green and slithering, the king an embodiment of pure evil. Todd could hear his gravelly breathing, sounding like a hungry lion.

Gaining courage, he spoke, "You ruined my life."

"Did I? You developed into a _man_ because of all the excellent training I submitted you to. I beamed with pride when you murdered Guy Armitage! You got away with it, unlike your screw-up with that little whore, Marty."

"Shut up about her, you son of a bitch!" He choked on the last outcry, old feelings of inadequacy firing out at the disapproving glare of his father, mockery beneath it. Irrational insecurity emerged, not at performing any evil act, but at living, at existing.

Peter roared, bloody saliva falling out of his mouth. "Oh look, the little Mama's boy has returned! You always were such a pussy."

"Why am I here?" A few long twisting worms dropped unexpectedly out of Todd's hair and he cringed, understanding that his body was changing, merging with what was around him.

"You've finally made it to the big time. When you slashed those pretty veins and arteries of yours, you condemned yourself to eternal Hell. Last straw. No Purgatory for you. No Paradise for you. Not with such a beautiful record of accomplishments. You're all mine now." Peter smiled widely.

"Can't be … I repented for my sins, I made up to those women, to Marty. I was wrong - it was wrong to hurt them! Like it was wrong to hurt . . . to hurt . . . " He froze, unable to continue.

"To hurt … who? Yourself?"

Todd doubled over in pain, excruciating pain, unable to breathe. His eyes watered. "Oh God," he gasped. He felt his insides burning, searing. His head and eyes felt pressured as if they'd explode.

"Ah, so you DO recall that final little party of ours."

Straining, Todd managed to scream in spite of the unbearable pain, "SHUT UP! You're paying for that! Look at you! I don't belong here! I'm different from you! I AM NOT YOU!" He was choking on the stench of Hell and pain wracked his entire body. Todd, now on his knees, looked up at Peter Manning. "I don't rape anymore. I understand how wrong it is now. I don't feel that anger anymore."

"Oh really, Saint Todd? I seem to recall a little punch of Tea Delgado, your beloved wife. I seem to recall you tossing her out of the Penthouse - naked - so she'd have to find shelter from you in the midst of a blizzard. Don't tell me …"

"That was something else! You don't know shit!" The pain intensified with each passing moment. He cried out, tears falling.

Peter roared and began to speak with a resonating growl, "You moron. I - AM - YOU. YOU - ARE - ME. You will never escape your real self, _our past_. I was there the first time you beat a kid in school and I was there the first time you brutalized Tea. I was there every time you raped a woman and every time you tore Blair apart over custody. I was there when you terrorized that lawyer and when you held the Buchanan family hostage. I was there every time you rejected love. And guess what…. I plan to be there when you RAPE your precious _children_, when you do to them, what I did to you. Such fucking HARMONY, my son!"

Todd screamed, his own voice beastly, and lunged forward in an attempt to kill Peter, but the end of the island prevented him from doing so, space suddenly separating the two. The lava swelled and called to him, the voices of the condemned loud, deafening. On his knees again, he screamed and screamed.

There was no escape, and nobody to hear him.

* * *

Todd shot up in bed, panting, sweating. Eyes roved the room, finding an unrecognizable place. Standing up, he nearly fell. Once re-oriented, he faced the window hoping for familiarity, finding none still. He looked at both his bandaged arms and down at his bare feet, hair hanging long and messy in his face. Now the recognition came. Dark focus returned.

He knew his job – someone had interfered.

Lifting his right arm, Todd began pulling at the thick bandages. Pull. Tear. Drop. Pull. Tear. Drop. Pull. Tear. Drop.

* * *

Tim had been researching a medication protocol. A bad meth reaction made sense as the cause of his patient'smental disturbance. There'd been a decline over time which could point to drug abuse, and the hallucinations and delusions had come on suddenly. The suicide attempt appeared to be a culmination, a peak. It all made perfect sense.

Drug-induced psychosis.

The good thing was that if this was drug-triggered, he should be coming to consciousness pretty quickly. The next thing would be to resolve what had brought such a powerful, successful man as Todd, one who'd picked himself up by the proverbial bootstraps, to his knees this way? His history lay in his thick file: life story from his sister and a criminal record from Llanview PD. But that was only part of the picture. One never knew what secrets might be hidden within a person's psyche.

He stretched his arms and sat back in his chair, his eyes tired from spending so much time looking at that god-forsaken computer. Tim glanced at his watch: 2:30 p.m. Time for a visit - his patient had been sleeping for quite a number of hours.

When Tim approached the window to Todd's room, he was momentarily pleased at seeing Todd standing, and not cowering in bed. The feeling of comfort was short-lived. The muscles of Todd's shoulders were moving in a way that looked like he was struggling with something. He looked busy. With a leap of his heart, Tim noticed a long trail of white gauze hanging off of Todd's right arm. He immediately unlocked the door and pressed the emergency switch for assistance.

Tim walked into the room carefully, stepping toward Todd's left side, being sure to keep a safe distance. Todd remained occupied with his grisly task, seemingly unaware of the doctor's presence. He'd managed to get the thick bandaging off his right arm and was picking at his wounds, blood oozing from the scraped-off scabs and stitches that he had managed to remove with his fingers and fingernails. Sweating, intense and focused. He clenched his jaw, lips tight in a scowl.

Michael and Sarah came to the room door and stood quietly, visibly disturbed by the sight. Tim cautiously reached out, "You're hurting yourself, Todd. Please, let me help you."

Todd turned his head slowly and looked directly at Tim, light eyes full of hate. "Who did this? Who got in my way?" He spoke in low, menacing tones.

"We couldn't let you die. We won't let you die. You're a loved person. You're needed. You're a human being who has a right to be here."

Clenching his teeth, Todd answered, "I don't choose to be here. I had a job to do and you stopped me. I won't - allow it - again."

"I understand how you feel. But you won't be able to complete your job as long as you're here with us. Our job is to keep you safe. We won't let you hurt yourself."

"Like hell you won't!" With each outburst of words, he pounded a tight fist against his chest, "I'M in control here! I AM! You are NOTHING!" His mouth twisted in anger, eyes glazed over with barely-controlled rage. He stepped towards Tim, threateningly, but Tim remained solid on his feet wanting to show that he wasn't afraid and was only there to help. He put a hand up to the orderlies to stop them from making moves towards Todd. He figured he could handle this … he was big and didn't think Todd had the strength to overpower him.

"Yeah, of course you're in control. We'll never take that away from you. But we will stop you when it comes to hurting yourself."

"No! ESPECIALLY when it comes to that! It's all my CHOICE!" At his last words, Todd pushed Tim violently, slamming his hands on the doctor's chest and knocking him back against the wall. Tim gasped, shocked at the power in the hit, power that didn't show in Todd's slender build. Michael ran behind Todd and grabbed him, Todd screaming, "Let go of me! No one controls me! NO ONE!" He fought Michael hard but lost quickly as he was put into a powerful hold. Todd continued to yell fiercely, held down by Michael on the floor now.

"Calm down or you'll get a sedative or restraints!"

Todd continued to fight, growling, but then seemed to give up, "No restraints … no fucking restraints … no, no, no …"

He realized he couldn't escape Michael's grip on him. Finally, he stopped entirely, breathing hard. He had some recall of ropes or straps being tied around his wrists and shook away the memory. Couldn't get more specific than that. Old… old….

Michael said he was going to release him slowly and that if he started fighting once more, he'd have to put him in a hold again, increasing the chances for restraints and/or a sedative. Todd nodded angrily, a bull downed by the matador, and closed his eyes in brief surrender. Michael let Todd go and he crawled away, placing himself up against the wall below the window. Blood reddened his arm and rubbed off on his white tee-shirt. The bandage trailed next to him. He glared at his observers, looking like a caged creature.

Tim breathed quietly in relief, moving closer to Todd, "Will you let me check your arm?" Carefully he reached for Todd, except Todd jerked himself away and glared at Tim defensively, growling like an animal.

"Look, this is a losing battle. Either you willingly let us help you, or you'll be sedated so we can repair the damage."

After some moments, Todd let Tim take his arm, but his blazing eyes never left the doctor's face.

"Sarah, just butterfly these cuts and re-wrap the arm. We'll get the on-call to come over and do what's necessary. Todd, will you let the on-call doctor repair the sutures?"

Todd only grunted.

"Is that a yes?"

Teeth clenched, he grumbled, "Yes."

"Good then, Sarah's going to tape the injuries and re-wrap your arm."

As the doctor walked out the door, Todd eyed Tim and said once more in that menacing tone, "I - control - my life. And - I - decide when to end it."

"I know, Todd. I know."

Tim walked to his office and took a deep breath as he fell into his chair. He might still be delusional, but he was conscious and aware.

"And so the games begin. . ."

* * *

On one side of the file were a couple of handwritten reports, the first one with Michelle's picture attached. He studied her picture carefully, a snapshot of her sitting in a chaise-lounge on a closed porch. She wasn't smiling, medium length reddish-brown hair cascading over her shoulders. Sadness in her face took in Kevin, mesmerized him. The freckles made her appear younger than she was, but her pretty face - no, a beautiful face - was alluring. She possessed a knowingness that aged her. Kevin tried to imagine her as a young girl, alone, to herself. Perfect for a quiet, shy young man like Todd must have been.

_Before he changed._

The file gave out the usual general information - Michelle listed as a missing person. He read reports of two witnesses, but noticed that a third page had been torn out of the file, the top still on the file's prongs. Kevin recorded the information into his notebook, noting that Bud Wilkinson and Wilma Plankett had seen Michelle jump, both saying they were seated at a picnic area next to the jumping point, a place he planned on visiting.

Finally, he looked at the closing report. It ran down the efforts of the police force to locate Michelle's body which consisted of a search of the surrounding areas and a dragging of the river for as much of an area as was possible. The search was called off after only forty-eight hours. That seemed far too short a time period. Stapled to the back of the file was a half-page form for telephone messages. A phone call from Charles Chant had been taken by an officer - "frantic" was written beside his name. In the note section of the form, handwriting indicated that Mr. Chant was assured the search was continuing and that they would make all efforts at retrieving Michelle's body. The message was dated about a month after the search ended. There was nothing else in the file. Kevin went through the entire file again and took the names of all the officers involved.

He got up and handed the file back to the secretary. At that moment, his cell buzzed. Kevin looked at the number and didn't recognize it. He walked outside the building and called the number back.

A young voice answered the phone, one unfamiliar to Kevin. He immediately thought it was a wrong number and briefly considered hanging up.

"Yeah, this is Kevin Buchanan, someone called me at this number."

"Yeah … I did, Jed Chant. You told me I could call you anytime."

Kevin felt strange. Was his guess correct about who Jed was? "Of course," he said. Curious as all get-out. "What's up?"

"Look, I'm not calling about working for no damn newspaper. I'm calling about Michelle, my real mother."

_Holy SHIT._

To Be Continued …


	5. Chapter 5

**On the Edge of Wakefulness**

**Chapter 5**

Kevin waited at a cafe in Fayetteville for Jedediah. Couldn't believe the kid knew Michelle was his mother. The two shared a secret, he said, and he understood from the time he was a kid about keeping that secret. _Wild, unimaginable._ Jedediah took a chance contacting Kevin, but said he needed help, was old enough, and the fact that someone came to their door on a mission which sounded like his own… well, call it fate.

Didn't have to wait long. Jedediah Chant breezed into the cafe, light-brown hair flying from having pulled off a motorcycle helmet that he carried at his side. He wore black jeans, a leather jacket over a sweater and black leather boots, well-used ones. Skinny still-to-grow kid except he had an air of age to him. An old soul, his mother would say. He spotted Kevin, nodded his head and sauntered toward him. Slid into the booth across from the waiting reporter.

"Hey. Really glad you could see me." Jedediah smiled, not a hint of shyness reflected on his face.

"'Course, yeah, no problem. Hey, don't you have to be 16 to ride one of those?"

He snorted, "No one around here asks."

"I'm still reeling. Michelle would have been maybe... 15 when she had you?"

"She was. Just turned. I wanted to show you something, a letter."

Kevin took a worn envelope into his hand, and took out the letter. The texture showed it had been read many, many times. Jedediah would have been close to eight when Michelle killed herself. The irony of the situation was not missed as Kevin knew that Todd's mother had left him when he was around nine. Kevin glanced briefly at the anxious eyes of Jedediah before he began reading. Those eyes… so much like Todd's, his mouth, his overall facial structure. But there was a softness there. Had to be Michelle's genes.

_"My dearest Jedediah,_

_I need to take care of something so I will not be here when you wake up. Please know, my sweet baby, I do not leave YOU. I could never leave YOU. Be strong. Know in your heart that I will always love you. And I will always know in my heart that you love me and those thoughts will bring me back to you. I am so proud of you. I am so lucky you are my boy. If I can't come back to you, my love, my angel, hold my heart next to yours and know I will be thinking of you._

_Love always,_

_Mimi."_

Kevin glanced up, unsure what he was supposed to see in the letter. She loved her son. Got it.

Jedediah was fumbling a bit about his neck, and then pulled out a chain with a silver locket. He unlatched the chain and opened the locket, revealing small pictures of a smiling Michelle and a toddler who was most likely Jedediah.

"She left this necklace with the letter for me. I wear this thing all the time. Don't care what anyone says or thinks." No doubt. Kevin supposed he'd fared better than his father in the emotional well-being department. After all, he'd been raised in a fairly stable environment. But there was a sadness to him. Kevin couldn't put his finger on what made him think that. Just felt it. Like an aura.

He gazed at the locket, finally closing it and handing it back. Jedediah put the chain back on and stuffed it underneath his sweater.

"Okay," said Kevin. "What's here? What am I missing."

"That's no fucking suicide note."

Ahh… Manning genes in his talk. Kevin eyed Jedediah and read the note again. Certainly, the tone was a wildly different from Todd's letter. Even though Todd hadn't been writing to a person he loved, much less even liked, it was sure and confident. There was no hesitation in Todd's mind when he wrote the note. He would be stone cold dead.

"She was murdered," Jedediah said softly. "I just know it."

"Do your parents ... do they realize you KNOW about Michelle being your mom?"

"Hell no. It was a secret. Our secret. One I swore to keep, even after Mimi left. To tell it would have been like betraying her or something. You know?" He ran his tongue over his lips … looked warily around the café.

"What do want from me, Jedediah?"

"I want to know what happened to her. Oh and call me Jed. Everyone does."

Kevin quickly nodded. "Cops ruled it a suicide - your parents bought into it."

"That's 'cause they never got her. I did."

"You were only a kid. What could you know about her?" Jedediah didn't even dignify the doubt with a response and instead, signaled the waitress for a coke.

Kevin accepted the brush-off. "So this secret," he continued, "is that why you kept the letter? I mean, maybe if they read it, they would have pushed for a better investigation."

"I tried to tell them she wouldn't leave like that, but …" He almost glared at Kevin, looking at him like maybe Kevin wasn't any different from all the rest of the assholes of the world. He spat, "I was just a kid, they said, what the fuck would I know?"

Ouch. Todd again, lurking in those genes. "Right… but the letter-"

The waitress placed the drink in front of Jedediah, who drank thirstily, like he'd been deprived. "They didn't listen to me, never do. They were so wrapped up in her absence, they barely acknowledged me even being alive. And yeah, it was a secret I couldn't tell. It was _my_ letter, not theirs. They'd have kept it if I showed it. Unacceptable."

Kevin was getting a clearer picture of the 'stable family environment.' Not so much, maybe. Yeah, those parents would have kept the letter. Woulda made the kid think it was all in his imagination. He looked back at those harsh hazel eyes which stared at him. Damn.

"Where do they think you are right now? I know they don't know you're here."

Jedediah raised his eyebrows. Touched his nose like they do in the game of charades. "With friends, camping, running away again. They don't give a shit." Jedediah looked around and leaned forward. "I want to stay with you … you know, be your assistant with your project on Michelle. I can help you."

"What about school?"

"Got a rebellious nature. I'll catch up later."

Kevin narrowed his eyes, realizing something. "You a truant, Jed? This skipping school, not telling your grandparents where you are...a regular deal?"

The boy looked away, then finished off his coke in one long swig. Then asked, "You gonna help me or not?"

"I can't take the responsibility …"

"Fuck you, then." Jedediah got to his feet, heading towards the door… getting outside. Kevin scrambled. He didn't have his own kids but this one was reaching out and… damn. Cassie would be pissed. He threw money on the table. Figures Todd's offspring would be as hot headed as he was. Shit.

The air had grown cold, a polar breeze coming from the north. Jedediah had just kick-started his motorcycle and it rumbled as Jed held his helmet, readying it to put it on. The noise upset the calm of the street. Kevin had to shout to get Jedediah's attention.

"Kill the engine, kid … come on … kill it. Hey!"

After a moment of scrutiny, Jedediah shut the motor off, scowling.

Kevin shrugged, "What if something happens to you? I need some kind of medical consent. Something… right? You're just a kid."

Jedediah turned around and dug into a backpack that had been corded to the bike. He flashed an identification card that showed him to be eighteen years old. "No consent needed," he said. "I'm an adult according to this."

Taking the card into his hand. Had to hand it to him. Hell of a fake. "Where you'd get this?"

"You kidding? Rat on a supplier this good? No way."

"Why only eighteen? Why not go all the way with the twenty-one?"

"I can get smokes and dirty mags. Don't need alcohol 'cause it's not my thing. Plus … I need more muscle on me 'for I pass for twenty-one."

Kevin shook his head. ID wouldn't matter. If the kid got hurt, and it was serious enough, hospital would treat him anyway. Kevin couldn't turn his back. "Yeah, yeah, alright. Guess I found a new assistant. Welcome to the world of newspapers, Mr. Chant."

* * *

Viki sat in Tim's office, listening to the details about Todd's attempt to reopen his injuries the old-fashioned way. "How could he do that?" she asked. "Is it even possible to not feel that level of pain?" Viki couldn't get over the images in her head, the fear for Todd. His state of mind was beyond anything she'd ever dealt with. Even her own.

"I'm sure cognition is there," the doctor explained. "He just doesn't acknowledge it." He paused, "I have news. We received test results. They confirm my initial suspicion. He's been using methamphetamine, known as 'meth' or 'crank,' on the streets. Causes alertness, paranoia, euphoria, hallucinations, aggression, anxiety, loss of appetite, etcetera… etcetera. It's a powerful version of what you probably know as _speed_. Sound like him?"

The words dropped like a bomb. Clarity hit Viki hard.

"No," she said. "My brother doesn't use drugs, that's not who he is, but… it makes sense, what you're describing. What he's been like the past few months."

Indeed, his appearance and behaviour all through the hostage-taking at the cabin fit this explanation to a tee. He hadn't slept in days, hadn't eaten, he was hyper, paranoid… dangerous. Todd was using drugs. Yes, it sounded right. But it did not sound like the man she knew.

"Meth's a drug on the rise," Tim said. "It's just now hitting our region and it's going to be a big problem. The high lasts a while but the effects are horrific. We can't yet determine the depth of the abuse, however. It's possible the drug use is a by-product of an already-present psychosis or the drug caused the psychosis. A bit of a chicken and egg thing. We have to wait and see."

"I don't know what to say… Todd is a man who likes to be in control of things. It surprises me that he'd take such risk, using a dangerous drug. He runs a large newspaper. Really well I might add. But then… I don't know about his private life, what he does on his off hours. I don't. I have seen him drink too much. I don't know. I'm shocked." Paused. "Can I see him?"

"No. He's too unpredictable. Goes from stillness to being wildly violent in minutes. He got rough with one of our female orderlies so I'm sticking to people who have the physical ability to handle him. And this is because he's still in detox. We got a few more days. He'll be chemically controlled when the time is up."

_Chemically controlled_. Like he was an animal. Made her ache. She wanted to talk to him, comfort him, offer herself as a friend and "mother" to him. But she knew he wouldn't want it. For the first time, she really felt his self-imposed isolation. The sadness of it. Nobody could touch him. Reach him. It was killing her. Her emotions suddenly overtook her.

"I...I have to go. I'm sorry. I am so sorry."

She abruptly left Tim's office, much to her own disappointment in herself. With Kevin being out of town, with her being alone, Todd's crisis was too much to bear. She wiped the tears from her face and bit her lip to stop herself from crying more. She was going to lose him to his sickness. Her own past was too real again. Victor Lord had reared his ugly head in her life which had finally attained a certain level of peace.

No surprises she split. Tim had plenty of experience dealing with traumatized families and although unusual in the circumstances, this was no different. He did learn something from Viki that helped explain the earlier confrontation: Todd was a man who liked to be in control of things. Tight, impenetrable control. And as such, Todd had made up his mind, deep within himself, that he was not to be helped, that he could not _be_ helped. And so long as he was in control of his own dominion, he could threaten his own body with harm, drugs, whatever it took… to show he was in control.

A hard case. However, it was only a matter of time before the torture he was putting himself through would have to end. He had not reached rock bottom of this cycle yet.

Tim looked at the time. He needed to go see Todd for their first official session together. He had been awake, mobile, and at least today, less violent.

_Show-time._

* * *

Todd paced like a caged animal in his room. Back and forth, back and forth. Smoldering, jittery, no place for his thinking to go. Thoughts swirled in his head so fast he couldn't keep track. Satan burned inside of him, slithering in and out, using his veins like a goddamn metro. Fucker. FUCKER! He kept shaking his head to move it out, kept shaking his body to jerk it out. He wanted a cigarette because that quieted things. Always did. He cringed at the sensation in his body. Scratched at the remembered burns on his stomach through his tee-shirt, scratched at his cock that had burns, too. Where was a cigarette when he needed one? A match will do. Fucking _anything._ Goddamn knife got taken. Goddamn stitches got put back. He looked for loose shit… anything sharp. Thought about just ramming into the wall but didn't because he knew those bastards would come out of that wall and tie him up again. Try to fucking BATHE him again.

FUCKERS!

Behind the glass, Tim watched his patient. He noted that while Todd appeared to have moved beyond terror and unawares, this was hardly better. He wasn't eating and was still threatening everybody around him, threatening himself. Tim took a breath and walked inside the room. The click of the door got Todd to look at him. He stopped pacing a moment. Glared at Tim. Tilted his head like a wolf.

In a soft voice, Tim said, "I just want to talk."

He gritted his teeth and spat, "Fuck you." Started pacing again. Back and forth, back and forth. Doing that thing where he shook his head, then his body. Peculiar.

Tim moved closer. "Todd, why don't you sit down and breathe. Count to 10. Your anxiety will decrease. I promise."

"Don't give me that shit!" He briefly pulled at his hair, hard, with both hands in aggravation. Shook himself. "You're not gonna put me under any of your spells or whatever it is you do!" Went back to his pacing.

Tim understood the jab. "I'm not here to do that. Do you want to know what_ I am_ here to do? Do you want to know what you can demand of me?" Not hearing a response other than a sarcastic snort, he went ahead with his opening arguments while his patient continued to pace back and forth, glowering.

"This is your recovery, Todd. Not mine, not your sister's, nobody's but yours. You have the right to direct your own recovery. You have the total right not to accept my help. You can choose another doctor. You can be afraid, or angry, or _feel_ whatever you want. You decide when you want to confront those fears or the anger you have. This is your deal. You're in control."

Todd eyed Tim and shook his head hard, grunting. He focused on the shadows on the carpet as he walked. Light poured into the room from all over it seemed, from no single place and no single source. Nothing like what was inside of him. Nothing there but black filth and evil. He was immune to the sun's light. He put his hands out, not feeling any heat. See? Immune.

_Focus on your job - killing Satan. Don't listen to that man, he's tricking you. They say you're in control. What horse shit. Soon as you act up, they'll tie you up and fuck you hard._

"You can talk or not talk, about anything, at any time, as you wish. You can ask for help in healing, without having to accept help with everything. You can keep your secrets until you're ready to share them. You can question me or anybody that is here to help you. You can take action to stop something that you don't want." Tim spoke softly and clearly, assuredly and confidently.

_Secrets? The ones crawling around my feet, biting my toes, clawing at my ankles. They're nothing! I pick one of them up and bite its head off. See that blood over my hands? THEY ARE NOTHING. I am nothing._

Todd's pacing slowed to a near standstill, his back to Tim, and he stared out the windows. Looked at his hands. Tim could see he was shaking. Could hear the ragged breathing. He was beyond agitated.

_Focus, focus. He's working with Satan. Don't listen! Show him the decapitated rat! Show him the uselessness of the interrogation. Show him your control. Show him. _

Todd turned and glared at Tim. His head was dipped, dark eyes looking up. Fists at his sides. Tim prepared to be bowled over by this guy. Damn it. An orderly was right outside, ready to come in if it got hot. Tim firmed up his stance, looked right into his patient's eyes. Said, "You have the right, Todd, to be touched only with, and within the limits of, your _consent._ No one can touch you unless you _want_ to be touched. _No one _will hurt you. _No one_."

_Touching … touching … shhhhh….. control it all!_

Todd shuddered violently at Tim's words which clearly found their way to him. They meant something. Oh yeah, those words had hit him with a force. He closed his eyes briefly and his lips parted. The anger had evaporated entirely. A different person stood there in the light by the window.

_Please take me from here, please save me. Don't you know where I am? Don't you know what he is doing to me? He's killing me. _

_PUSSIFIED, PUSSIFIED! You weak, punk-ass BITCH!_

Todd sighed, retreating into that quiet. Tim wondered if it was the recitation of rights but what part? The touching, the hurting, what part? He pushed the envelope. Continuing.

"Nothing you say to me will ever go beyond me. Not into any public file or any reporter's notebook or family or friends. Not into the ears of anyone without your consent. Finally, know that I will never have any other relationship with you other than as your therapist and healer. _I will not abuse you._"

_Abuse._

Todd opened his eyes at the word. Trapped in hell. A deep sadness welled inside of him. He shook his head, shaking his body. Slowly resumed his pacing. He scratched at his chest. He needed the pain. _Focus. Focus._ He curled his fingers into a fist and dug his fingernails as deep as he could into his hand, attempting to draw blood.

_I can bite the heads off rats …_

He heard Tim's words again start to come at him.

"Todd, talk to me, please. Do you know where you are?"

About a minute passed. He said, "Here. You've trapped me." He spoke slowly, spacey, as he walked the floor.

"Do you know who I am?" Tim asked.

"You call yourself Tim and tell me you're a doctor." Todd stopped pacing and gazed at Tim, the edges of anger and strength returning to his voice. Sadness in his eyes had given way to fear.

"Who do you think I am, then?"

"A witch or a devil, maybe working for Satan. That's why you keep me alive. Because you know if I finish my work, he'll be dead. And you'll be out of a fucking job." Todd shook his head and rubbed his hair roughly in frustration. A wordless sound rumbled from his throat. He stood there staring at Tim, that same fear there. Whatever edges of anger had been there had now faded again.

"Do you know how you got here?"

"I don't...I don't know ..." Confusion settled in. He rubbed his face and head, trying to clear his mind, perhaps. Trying to shoo away voices maybe.

"Have you been taking anything, Todd, to help yourself, maybe? Any drugs?"

"I don't know, I don't understand what you're saying. You're so smart, why don't you tell ME what's going on."

"I don't know."

"Isn't it _obvious?!"_

"No, tell me."

"He made me who I am! He made me hurt them, he did. So he has to pay for it. He hurt her and he hurt ... he hurt…"

Todd scratched his chest, his breathing becoming more and more strained.

"Who did he hurt?"

"What's happening to me? Why is he doing this to me? WHY?! WHY?!" Todd looked desperately at Tim, his face reflecting pain and confusion. He couldn't reach the doctor. His words were spraying into space, bits and pieces lost in the air. Nothing but spit. He was alone and condemned. Todd looked at his hands and bandages and turned to the window again. He gazed outside for the longest time.

"She was so beautiful," he suddenly said. His eyes glossed, seeing something other than the grass and trees outside. The faintest of smiles brushed across his lips. His right hand reached out as if he were touching someone's face. "She understood me. She called me - ME - her angel. Imagine that? She said she loved me."

"Who, Todd?"

He stood still, unresponsive, having slipped into a kind of catatonic state. Tim called his name, getting no response.

Then Todd whispered, "I am nothing." His eyes rolled up and Tim jumped, just in time to catch his patient as he collapsed into a heap. He lay still in Tim's arms, eyes open, staring into… nothingness.

End of session.

* * *

Cassie Carpenter looked up at the End of the Road Bar's eternally blinking "COCKTAIL" neon sign. Pushing open the door, she entered the dingy wood-paneled establishment and had to squint to get used to the dim light. She noticed a slumped man at the bar supported by a tall stool that had seen better days, and a gum-chewing male bartender wiping down the accessible counter-space. With her business suit and matching purse and shoes, she looked a fish out of water.

As Cassie's eyes moved across the rainbow of glass liquor bottles, she spotted yet another lone figure at the end of the counter. He stood with one foot on the dirty floor and the other on a long metal bar which ran along the bottom portion of the counter. His face was mottled with evidence of a long-lost battle with teenage acne, lines deeply indenting a face which was hard and untrusting. His hair had been shorn, leaving only stubble, an image of a marine gone bad. His clothing was unkempt and he wore old leather shoes revealing a man who operated in the… lesser… parts of Llanview and its surrounding communities.

He turned his head at the approaching footsteps of a daring reporter. "Welcome to my world." He returned his gaze to a half-full shot glass, an amber liquid awaiting its death.

"Hope not. But for a man named 'the Mole' this is no surprise. Let's just get to the brass tacks. What information do you have for me on Angel Square?"

"Payment, Miss Carpenter?"

Cassie shoved a wad of bills into the Mole's large, fatty hand. "No need to count it - it's all there."

The Mole turned around to face his interviewer, stuffing his pocket with the money, his beaten-down visage visible in the low lights of the End of the Road Bar. He looked around, sharp eyes ferreting out potential dangers, the bartender having conveniently stepped into the back room. The slumped man continued to lie still on the counter, no sign of having come out his coma.

"I've been hired by Wormwood and Associates to find stressed-out owners in the Angel Square district. I give 'em names and circumstances, they give those names to specially picked city people. They condemn the properties, buying out the owners for prices way below market value. Specially-picked judges approve it all. City turns around and sells the properties to Wormwood through a string of corporations and boom, city makes money and Wormwood will ultimately own all of Angel Square. Wormwood does this all over the country."

"I want names and proof of the Llanview officials involved."

"It'll cost you."

"I'll pay extra for the hard proof. Names are free."

"Bo Buchanan and Judge Austin Campbell."

"What?! Bo's our commissioner. He was implicated last year and totally exonerated."

"Not by a court he wasn't. The investigation was buried. That killing and the story about the newspaper guy took over. The public got so involved in that mess they forgot about what the poor girl was doing in the first place, blackmailing good ole' Bo Buchanan for bribery. She was right on the nose."

"So what, Georgie Phillips was a hit? Rachel Gannon confessed to the killing. Voluntary manslaughter."

"An 'accidental tourist'. Pure coincidence. I'm sure the Buchanans were damn grateful to bad timing on Gannon's part." The Mole downed the rest of the whiskey in the shot glass.

Cassie looked toward the door, mulling over the information. Was Kevin involved? Did Kevin cover up the real story with the sham that Todd Manning killed Georgie? She looked back at her informant, unsure of where to go from here.

"All right, I'll get you more cash when you come up with proof." Cassie turned and walked out the door. The Mole peeled a few bills from the wad which had been in his pocket and tossed them on the counter before leaving.

The slumped man listened for the door to squeak shut and waited a moment. He slowly raised his head. Glancing around, feigning confusion, he saw there was no one remaining in the bar other than the bartender who had since come back and was taking a spot-check inventory of the liquor bottles. Sam Rappaport shook the cramps out of his arms and a few incoherent words tumbled out. He stood up, losing his footing as he was still drunk, but not so drunk as to not have heard the entire conversation between the Mole and Cassie. So who was this Wormwood, he wondered, and what was going on with the Buchanans? He stumbled out of the bar and headed to his car. Hopefully he wouldn't get a DUI on his way to the office. He had work to do.

* * *

Todd lay on his side on his small island surrounded by the flowing lava, sweating from the heat and pain which consumed him. Satan's feet were all he could see and he whimpered at the spectacle of disgusting sores and blackness. He tried to move away but couldn't.

"You're a pathetic slug, _son_." Satan crouched down to look Todd in the eyes. "You know what you need, boy? PERSPECTIVE." The hot, foul breath of the gruesome devil-creature flowed over Todd's body. He fought an overwhelming desire to retch. He groaned, rubbing his head on the black dirt.

"Tea Delgado was a bitch. She pushed and pushed and basically deserved what she got. I would have done a hell of a lot more than punch her. Blair, too, deserved what she got. I thought the whole custody trial over your daughter was brilliant! You did a fine job on her. She was a real cunt. Lied to you about being pregnant the first time around, lied to you all the time. She only wanted you for your money."

Satan ran his sore-infested hand lewdly up and down Todd's body, Todd writhing at the touch and finally throwing up what little was in his stomach. Peter's loud laughter greeted him once the involuntary spasms came to an end.

"You're so dramatic. I remember YOU, boy. _Gratifying._ Years of it. I remember that last night. You remember? Not as gratifying. Should've killed her, should've killed you. I got my sweet revenge though. What's that line, revenge is a dish best served cold?" Peter-Satan laughed uproariously. "Get it? _Cold,_ down here in Hell." Todd inched forward, trying to crawl away, his nails scraping the black rock island.

Satan straightened up to his full height and placed his heavy foot on Todd's back. Todd groaned beneath the beast's weight, the doomed slug caught by its predator.

Peter's words spilled out, "You are mine now. I will break you."

* * *

Todd lay on his back, tossing from side to side in a violent dream-state. He finally shot up in bed, recoiling at the sight of Tim. Hours had passed. He was perspiring, confused and breathed rapidly.

"Where...where am I? What happened?" He looked all around him, at the floor, the windows, the bathroom, the door, finally landing on Tim. Deep lines cut into his forehead, and he rubbed his hair out of his face. He grasped the sheets tightly in his hand.

"You're at Llanview Psychiatric Hospital. I'm Tim Graham and I'm your physician. Do you remember me?"

"Yeah, I remember you." Todd rubbed his face with his left hand and then stared at his arms. He licked his lips, thirsty, hungry. Where was his guy with his stuff? "I want to get outta here. What do I have to do to get out?"

Agitated, he narrowed his eyes at Tim, who'd been anticipating the furious beast to come around again once he regained his footing. Tim was surprised though to be hearing a little more groundedness.

"You've been committed by a court for violating the terms of your suspended sentence by attempting suicide. A judge will decide when you're ready to be released."

Todd stared at Tim for some seconds then slammed closed his eyes, shook his head, jerked his body and groaned, "No, no, no, no..." Started to rock his body. Pictures immediately flashed in his head. They flashed by too fast to distinguish, disturbing nonetheless. He tried to cover his eyes and ears.

_Stop them. Stop them . . ._

Tim came close to the bed. "Tell me what's hurting. Please let me help you."

Todd weakly pushed Tim out of the way and dragged himself out of the bed, groaning, "I'm in Hell. He has me. Don't you understand?" He moved in a circle, round and round the room. "I'm dying." His head hung down, his arms loose at his sides.

"What makes you say that?"

"She's dead because of me. She saw . . . she saw . . . no, no, no."

"Who's dead?"

"Michelle's dead because of me …," he whispered.

"From what I understand, from what Viki told me, she jumped to her death many years after knowing you. You weren't there. She made her own choice."

Todd looked at Tim, "BECAUSE OF ME!"

"How?"

Tears welled and then rolled down his cheeks, his face creasing with bewilderment. "I don't know," he said. "I don't know . . . " Sorrow turned to anger, Todd punching his fist into the air, pacing again to shake off pain beginning to engulf him.

"Todd, count to ten and breathe deeply. Concentrate on the counting, meditate about something you know and like. Tell me about Michelle. You told me she was beautiful. Tell me about how she was beautiful to you."

He breathed deeply, calming himself. Listening to Tim. The ache he clearly felt etched itself across his features, especially in his eyes. He stared at his healer. "Her hair was long and soft. She had these . . . freckles . . . on her face. She had these eyes . . . the.. the color of mine. Pretty on_ her_." As Todd described Michelle, the lines of pain seemed to smooth themselves out.

"Your eyes aren't pretty on you?"

"No...I'm ugly and sickening and I'm a slug." The grimace returned.

"Who told you that?"

"Satan."

"I have a feeling Michelle didn't see you that way. Your family doesn't see you that way either."

"She didn't see me ... she … no, she's dead. She didn't see me after, after-"

"After what?"

"No, no, no, no, no…" Todd growled from deep in his throat and eyed the floor around him. _Rats at my feet, I can behead them._ Raised his eyes to Tim, familiar darkness came out again. "No more questions. No more." He surveyed the room and began opening the drawers of the dresser in the closet. "I need my stuff, where is it, where is it?" He looked under his bed. "I can't find it. Tell me where you put it."

"What stuff?" Tim suspected Todd was referring to a stash of drugs. He ran his hands through his hair impatiently, the anxiety level increasing again. "Look, you're my doctor and I need medicine. I gotta have it... gotta have it because I don't want to sleep anymore… so I gotta have it or I will break every fucking bone in your body! Where is it, GODDAMN IT?!"

"Where's what?"

"You know. You KNOW!"

"Your drugs?"

"Medicine."

"How long have you been using methamphetamine, Todd?"

"Shut up! Don't look at me like that! Judging, judging … always judging. You don't know what it's like to hear him all the time! To hear his voice in my head! The medicine ups MY voice, gets me going to shut him up! Keeps me awake so I don't SEE him. Now… now… give me a phone so I can get my shit. You have to do this – I need it – please, you have to give it to me!"

"I have something else to help quiet this voice you hear. Will you try it?"

"Will it keep me awake?"

"No-"

Todd's face fell, frustrated. He was trapped under lock and key and now not even those divine packets of powder could help him. He was going back in hell as soon as his eyes closed. Shaking his head, every bit of him vibrating with pent-up energy, he yelled, "Get OUT! You can't help me! It's too damn late ... it's so fucking late …"

He made his way to his bed, climbing in under the covers. Lying on his side under his doctor's watch, he curled up and hummed rhythmically to himself, repetitively smoothing his hair, engaged in a kind of self-soothing.

Tim sat back, somewhat pleased with the progress, little it was. The detox was working. One thing new, a revelation ... he used the meth to stay awake. Which meant, most likely, the drugs were being used to deal with an already present illness.

Keep talking, my friend.

* * *

Kevin and Jedediah went to the New River National Park, arriving just before dusk. After hiking a bit, they both stood at the edge of a cliff overlooking the river beneath them. Michelle's supposed jumping point. They were quiet as they contemplated her last moments prior to jumping. Or falling. Or being pushed.

Jedediah was an exceptional kid, unique, possessing a wicked sense of humor, and vastly intelligent. He claimed to be in a home-study program for "special" kids like him, kids who had no desire to attend classes – in other words, habitual truants which managed to pass certain tests. He claimed he couldn't be happier and was performing much better in the new "home study" program. Said he was going to graduate in June and had every intention of hitting the road on his bike as soon as he was done. Wanted to get emancipated from Beatrice and Charles. Did the research. So being with Kevin like this, away from everything, was perfectly _okay_.

"It's really no problem, man. Don't sweat it," he assured his mentor.

Kevin knew about these programs, though, and he suspected Jedediah was barely holding on. Moreover, he suspected there wasn't any home program at all – usually, such kids attended a half-day program at a continuation school. Jed was probably skipping the few classes he had. On the other hand, if refused to help Jed, the boy would probably be on his own anyway. Kevin couldn't escape the feeling he was dealing with a runaway train. Nothing to do but hang on.

As he focused on the water, the younger man with his worn leather boots recounted the games he and his real mother used to play. She was so young, just out of her teens, and he remembered how she giggled at his child-like jokes and made-up stories.

_"Mimi, I saw Superman at school and he carried me to your school today. But you didn't see me. But I saw you and you were asleep on your chair!"_

He could easily recreate in his mind Michelle smiling at him, her sweet boy, _"Really, how do you know I didn't see you? I could hear you outside my classroom! 'Mimi!' you shouted! You silly goose!"_

Their conversation would erupt into a frenzy of more giggles. Those memories haunted him as he studied the quick-moving current hundreds of feet below … as he watched the rocks getting pummeled. A fallen tree tried to break free, but was trapped, creating a waterfall. The sun was setting, painting an intense orange glow across the horizon.

Jedediah's voice broke through the hypnotizing roar of the river, getting Kevin to turn to him.

"My mother used to say that my dad was an angel who came to earth just to meet her, to create me. She said I looked like him and that she had loved him with all her 'being.'" He smiled a little at the memory. "I used to question her all the time about 'my angel daddy'. She invented these stories and I still remember them." He chuckled at his childhood remembrance, even though he was barely a child himself.

Kevin cringed at the idea of Jedediah learning about his… _angel daddy_. Shit.

"She told me he loved music and would dance with her at night to music only they heard. She'd tell me it was music from God, from Heaven. She would light up when she talked about him. Said he had golden hair, and eyes the same color as hers and mine and he was beautiful. I'd get mad at her when she said that 'cause you know, men aren't 'beautiful' but 'handsome'. We had the same argument every time she told me the story. Pretty stupid stuff, huh?"

"You're lucky to have had a mom like her, even if it was for a short time." Kevin watched the boy front of him, a fascinating mix of what he knew so far about Todd and Michelle.

"Yeah. Beatrice never understood us. Seemed she was always mad."

"I don't blame you for giving the big fuck-you to Beatrice and school and all adults. I bet if I had grandparents who refused to acknowledge my own mother or me as her son and then as a real kicker, having to lose my mom …. I'd be pretty upset too."

Kevin studied the young man who didn't react much to Kevin's talk. By this time, they were both seated on the damp ground waiting for the dark to overtake them.

Jed said, "I chill by riding my bike and hanging out with my friends. But … I don't throw my life away 'cause I know my mom loved me and I know whatever happened to her wasn't a rejection. I know that. She didn't kill herself. She wouldn't have left unless it was forced on her."

Kevin wondered if Jedediah was only trying to convince himself of all he said.

"So, do you know who my dad is?"

Kevin flinched, just not expecting the obvious follow-up to their conversation. What was he going to say? Kevin didn't have any words at the moment.

"Let's get back to the hotel and we'll talk about it. I don't have hard information for you, Jed. Only guesses, only damn guesses." He turned the flashlight on and they headed to the car.

Gonna be a long night.

**To be continued….**


	6. Chapter 6

**On the Edge of Wakefulness**

**Chapter 6**

Kevin and Jedediah sat at the small table in the Fayetteville hotel room munching on take-out food, both subdued after visiting the last place Michelle had been seen alive. The young charge waited patiently for the conversation about his real father to begin. Kevin didn't know how this kid figured he knew something. But he did and Kevin didn't feel like lying about the possibility.

Where to start? Disclaimer. "Listen, I'm wary about saying anything because I'm not 100% sure he's your dad. Still want to hear about him?"

"Yeah, I do."

Kevin took a deep breath and eyed Jed directly. Putting his sandwich down, he wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. When he cleared his throat for the third time, he interlocked his fingers, elbows on the table, as if in a business meeting. Only instead of an old man heading a corporation, he was facing young, hopeful eyes.

"His name is Todd Manning. Ever hear of him?"

Jed shook his head, no.

"He owns a newspaper in Llanview, Pennsylvania, a rival paper to mine. He's my mother's half-brother. Some time ago, I learned he was a very good friend of your mom's. They went to school together in Chicago. Quiet kids, loner types. Didn't cause trouble. But one day … things changed. No explanation. Your mom left town, and Todd… he changed." Kevin sighed.

"Like how?"

"He went from not causing trouble...to causing trouble." He paused. "You look like him. Incredibly like him. He's thirty years old, smart, rich …" Kevin leaned on his elbows. "He's a real bastard, Jed. But even so… he isn't well right now."

"He's sick? Like dying or something?" Disappointment began to register on Jedediah's face even though, God knew, he was fighting it.

"No, no, no, nothing like that." Kevin swallowed hard. What does he divulge at this point? Why did this have to be so damn complicated? "Uh... Todd's mentally ill. He's in a hospital. It's serious."

Jedediah sucked in his breath, got up from his chair and walked to the window which only gave him a view of a few passing cars and a very dark West Virginian night.

"He was hospitalized a bit ago for - for -" Kevin couldn't say it. Couldn't say _suicide_ after what this child had been through for half his life. "A breakdown," he concluded.

"Is that it? Is that the worst?"

Kevin paused, undecided, settling on vagueness. "Depends on your perspective, I guess. I'm not gonna lie. We've battled a lot since college. In fact, my investigation into your mom's story was... well, I hoped it would turn out bad for him. Hoped it would hurt him. I could tell you I hate him."

Jedediah turned back around, curious. "But you're not gonna say that?"

"Meeting you, learning about your mom, being forced into a very strange bond with him recently... I don't think I hate him anymore. I want to find the truth about Michelle... but not to hurt him."

"Why, then?"

"I think it might help get him better? I don't know. I thought at first he might have done something to your mom. I'm not sure anymore."

"You thought this guy hurt her?"

"Yeah. Maybe."

Jedediah eyed Kevin a moment. "No way. If he had hurt her, she would have told me." Sat back down at the table. "Do you have a picture?"

"I don't have one on me, but I can link up with the paper files, and you can see what he looks like."

"Ok."

Kevin did just that, pulling up Banner file photos of the Dark Prince of Llanview, and there were plenty. None showed his "good" side. He avoided mugshots or those of him in shackles on his way to the courthouse for yet another arraignment. That would have to be dealt with at a later time, if and when Jedediah learned about his father's criminal past. Jed might not be so confident that Todd hadn't hurt Michelle.

For now, he focused on Todd the business man. Better than mugshots but not by much. A roving reporter for the Banner managed to get a snap at the courthouse after a particularly heated day of trial during the custody battle with Blair over Starr. A perfect shot used to support a scathing article about his court antics. Classic grey Hugo Boss suit. Longish hair. The look on his face was typical: pissed-off, menacing. Hard hazel eyes right at the camera. An undeniable strength in that flash of swagger.

Immediately, Jedediah saw the powerful resemblance between himself and Todd. He glanced at Kevin at the surprise of it.

"I know. You are his spitting image."

Jed then stared at the picture a long time, never having seen his own eyes gazing back at him before. He touched the screen, trying to reconcile the "angel daddy" his mom had described all those years and the cold-looking man he saw on the computer. He didn't see a joyous figure dancing to godly music by the light of the moon. Instead, he saw a night creature who stalked innocents on a moonless night.

Yeah, a real bastard. He still did not believe Todd had hurt his mom. Kevin said… he had changed. That meant… this man might have still been the angel she described. Something changed him after they'd been together, maybe.

Kevin sat quietly, debating whether he should have revealed so much. He thought Todd would have killed him with his bare hands if he knew Kevin was the one who opened the door to his world for a _child_. Jedediah looked at Todd's picture a few more seconds before closing the computer.

"Thanks," he said. "I get your hesitation but...he's my dad. I know it, here." He patted his chest, his heart, a simple show of faith touching Kevin deeply and compelling him to issue a final warning.

"This isn't a fairy tale, Jed. Todd's lived a harsh, nasty life. I can't tell you that you won't be immensely disappointed."

"I know."

Kevin wanted to say, _you don't know anything even close to the reality, _but didn't. They had a rough path to walk in front of them and it would begin in the morning.

* * *

Cassie sat in front of her laptop in the Llanview Public Library doing research on eminent domain, the process where a city condemns property for public purposes, for community improvement. She hoped to determine where Wormwood and Associates would come in. Where would Bo Buchanan fit in? What about Kevin? She hadn't spoken to him since the previous morning, not ready to talk openly. Not ready to lay out her worry that maybe the story about Todd was meant to cover up the truth about Georgie Phillips and the Buchanan bribery involvement. Her instincts told her Kevin wouldn't do that. On the other hand, she couldn't deny his drive or his obsession with "getting" Todd.

Suddenly, a chair next to Cassie scraped against the floor, attracting the attention of quiet readers, and Sam Rappaport slid into it.

"Sam … what … hi?" She smiled in perplexity, using her pen to scratch her head.

"I followed you from the Banner. Needed to talk to you."

Cassie could smell alcohol on his breath, surprised. She never knew the accomplished lawyer to drink. "Lovely," she said. "Thrilled at the safety net that surrounds me."

"I overheard your conversation with the Mole."

Cassie's eyes widened in shock… she thought she'd been so careful.

"No, Cassie, don't worry. I'm on your side."

He glanced around, surveying the patrons. Leaning forward on his elbows, he explained in a soft voice, "I've been representing Carlotta Vega. The city's been trying to condemn the area where her diner is located and we've been running into a brick wall on this. Thing is, I thought Judge Campbell was dirty. Thought maybe we could help each other. I'll take care of the legal end, you'll take care of the going-public part. Together – maybe - we can clean up Llanview. A little."

She looked thoughtful, considering.

"It's a worthy cause," Sam said, hoping she'd agree. Truthfully, he'd gravitated to the Wormwood story because he couldn't handle what was happening to Todd – or himself. He didn't think he'd ever recover from the suicide attempt. Every day since, Sam drank himself into a stupor at the End of the Road Bar and it had to stop. Cassie's conversation with the Mole offered a way to get off the bar stool.

She smiled, saying quickly, "Ok. I'll share with you what I got, provided you share with me."

"Deal."

* * *

Satan lifted his foot off Todd, who lay quietly on the ground of his island in the sea of lava. He raised his head weakly, his face stained with bloody tears.

"You're wrong. I don't belong to you." His voice was barely a whisper, strained. Pain tortured his entire body. Where he got the strength to form words was a mystery.

"You go on thinking that, little worm. You never had the strength to fight me. You will never have the strength. You will always lose."

"No, I'll win because I love my beautiful daughter, Starr. That'll save me. I'm not like you. I'd never hurt her. I would die first. I would let her kill me first."

Having no comprehension of Todd's twisted thinking, Peter Manning roared, "You are a JOKE! When your daughter grows into the whore she will surely become, she will rub her pierced nipples in your face and shake her tattooed ass. She will challenge you at every turn. She will spit at you when she learns of your past. She will hate and despise you. You will want to beat her. You will HAVE TO."

"I'll never hurt her. Never, never, never." Heartbroken tears rolled down Todd's cheeks, agony consuming him.

Satan's body shook with revulsion at Todd's challenge to him so he kicked him solidly in the stomach, pushing him close to fiery shore. Todd moaned and dragged himself away from the fiery lava flow, moving closer to his tormentor.

"You are _nothing_. You are less than nothing. You'll not be able to stop the evil that's within you. You couldn't do it with Blair or Tea or any of those women you raped. You will not be able to stop yourself with your _precious_ Starr!" Satan kicked Todd sharply in the back. No sound came this time. He arched his body, the pain no longer measurable. He heard the moans of condemned souls and felt the heat of the lava on his face.

Peter spoke. "You see, _Todd_, you stole my life from me. Instead of gold, Victor Lord gave YOU to me, a pussified runt destined to steal what was mine. I served that bastard for years, getting nothing but few thousand bucks a year. Stuck with you until you turned 25. Hell with that. I wasn't going to be serving no damn Lord heir. So I made you my whore because you had to pay."

Satan brutally kicked Todd all over, everywhere, the pain blinding him, paralyzing him. Deep red blood fell from his eyes where tears should have been.

"Know this," Peter hissed, "I _will_ continue to make you pay, you sorry son of a bitch."

Todd was condemned. He belonged to Satan. He looked up at the heavens and reached his hand toward the comforting blue where clouds drifted like a child's dream.

* * *

Michael, the orderly, in doing his usual late-night rounds came to Todd's room, at last. When he looked through the window, he couldn't see the patient. So he unlocked the door. When he reached the bathroom, Michael saw Todd huddled in the shower basin, violently shaking and covering his head, obviously terrified. Sweat soaked his pajamas and tee-shirt, his feet rubbing against the tiles, as if he could dig himself deeper into… anyplace other than here.

Approaching carefully, Michael said, "Hey, man, take it easy, be cool. You're ok, you know. No one's gonna hurt you. Whatever you're seeing … it ain't real. Let's get you outta here, okay?" He'd seen this before, he knew the routine. So he kept up the assurances, kept speaking in the same gentle tone as he inched closer to Todd. Soon, Todd settled, fighting less, and looked at Michael.

"Come on, lemme help you."

After a few long moments, Todd reached out and grabbed the orderly by his arm, Michael grunting because the patient dug in good. He was a strong man, _Jesus._ Michael pulled Todd to his feet and they walked into the dimly lit room. Todd never let go until he hit the cool sheets.

There, he curled up once more, crossing his arms protectively against his chest, as if expecting something to shoot out and hurt him. That's when Michael noticed scratches on Todd's neck and on the visible portions of his arms. He was pretty sure there'd be more markings elsewhere and hoped they weren't too bad, hoped the guy didn't get a hold of a knife or blade.

"I need to get you out these wet clothes, okay? Looks like you've run a marathon."

When Michael reached for the drawstrings though, Todd kicked out wildly, his teeth bared, eyes full of madness. Silent, silent fear. Michael stepped back hard. No way, no how.

"Okay, okay. They'll dry."

When it was clear Michael wasn't going to impose anymore, Todd curled up again, his feet rubbing against the sheets. Eyes open, bouncing around the dim room. He scratched his neck again, a deep scraping motion. More marks. When he did that, though, he calmed somewhat, the movements lessening, the fear on his face fading. Michael paged Tim, the patient's condition serious enough to warrant a visit, even if he had to come during his off-time. He knew the Doctor was being paid by Viki Carpenter to give all required time to Manning and that meant: CALL.

By the time Tim arrived, Todd dozed off. After getting an update, the doctor moved Todd's hair out of the way to look at his neck, to check the damage. Todd jerked at the touch, opened his eyes suddenly, staring straight at the doctor. Hands up, out, warning Tim.

"You want to talk?" Tim asked.

Like with Michael, Todd didn't respond, but did focus on Tim, his stare intense. The room was quiet, the hospital quiet … almost to distraction. The windows were blackened by the late hour, no lights visible from the city. Traffic had died down to nearly nothing.

"I'm not going anywhere," Tim said softly. He dragged a seat next to the bed. Sat heavily. "Got me all to yourself, my friend. Nobody to pull me away." Todd didn't avert his pointed gaze, one so deep Tim almost believed he could hear his thoughts. He looked into those light eyes full of pain … seeing a sharp turn from the man who'd pulled out his own stitches earlier.

"What's scaring you? What do you see?"

Shuddering, Todd tentatively reached out. Tim watched the fingertips… landing on the edges of the doctor's sleeve… "You can say anything. I won't judge you."

_Shhhhh…I can't say these things aloud … I can't speak of them._

Fingers grabbed onto the sleeve, tightening, pulling him closer… closer … so quiet, he was _so silenced._

"What happened? Where's that fire you've been showing me?"

Beads of sweat dotted Todd's face, single strands of hair pasted to his skin. He parted his lips as if he wanted to talk…

"Say it," Tim whispered. "I won't hurt you."

Tears rolled down Todd's face and he ran a finger on the back of Tim's hand.

An H.

An E.

An L.

P.

_Help. _

Tim sighed in a kind of relief, looking into those sad eyes. "Yes," he said. "I will help you. That's what I'm here for."

He released Tim, digging himself into the sheets again and hummed, only now it was voiceless. He kept his eyes wide open, watching … watching … ever watching for monsters. Tim figured Todd had reached the rock bottom of _this_ particular level of hell. Sat for a long while… waiting for sleep to overtake his patient.

* * *

Throughout the rest of the night, Todd remained dead-silent, not a moan or a whimper. He finally fell asleep and, in the interest of accessibility, Tim decided to stay over in the doctor's lounge for a catnap.

A little after daybreak, he returned to Todd's room. There, he reviewed the file notes and studied up on experimental therapy techniques. He wanted to be there when Todd woke up in order to build some trust and a sense of reliability. Although Tim was hopeful about the breakthrough, he didn't make it into more than it was. As the old adage went, for every step forward, there'd be ten back.

The peace of the early morning ended when Todd shot up in bed, pushing himself hard against the headboard as if trying to escape. His hands were up, holding something back. He was breathing hard, almost growling, and his gaze penetrated the space in front of him, not even noticing Tim. The doctor straightened up immediately, putting the files on the floor next to him.

"Whoa … over here … you're okay … nobody here but me." Todd's eyes flew to Tim now, saying nothing, still in protective mode.

"There's nothing to be scared of, I'm not going to hurt you."

Todd gave the room a once-over and after some moments began to calm down… only slightly. Tim approached, asking permission to take his pulse, to measure his rate of breathing. Amazingly, Todd allowed it, although he flinched at the doctor's touch.

"You know who I am?" Tim was holding Todd's wrist and watching the seconds pass on his watch. He then placed his hand lightly on Todd's chest, still focusing on his watch.

Todd nodded his head slowly, trembling still.

"You know you're at the Llanview Zoo, yeah?" Todd quirked at that, tilting his head… questioning with sad eyes … and Tim smiled, "You got me. We're at Llanview Psychiatric Hospital." Todd looked away, eyes out the window.

"So what's going on here? Not talking."

Todd looked down at his arms, quiet. Tim had seen this before. Most likely his patient had muted himself as a means of avoiding painful memories or feelings. If he couldn't talk, he couldn't reveal the underlying traumatic experience. He'd shared too much perhaps. He'd shut himself down.

"You hungry? Thirsty?" Todd nodded once more, but then began looking around, as if he were checking for hidden enemies, glancing down around his bed, and moving his body further into the pillows and headboard. The breathing upped again … he quickly returned his gaze to the doctor.

"It's all right … you're safe. Don't worry."

Keeping hard eyes on Tim, the moments of panic seemed to pass. Tim then said, "I want to take a look at the scratches under your shirt, okay? May I do that?" Todd shook his head frantically, again moving himself against the headboard behind him.

"I promise I won't touch you … all I want is to look." After a moment, Todd nodded slightly. Watching as Tim carefully lifted the shirt, Todd sucked in his stomach muscles as if trying to avoid any physical contact. Careful not to touch any skin, Tim looked at the scratches and noted that while deeper than the ones on his neck, they weren't serious and didn't need treatment.

Right after he covered Todd back up, the door opened and Todd jumped back again, the fear returning. He slammed himself against the headboard, hands out… face showing such terror.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. Just the nurse."

He didn't quite relent but the fear seemed less intense, eyes trained on Tim again. There was the slightest belief in what the doctor said. A good step forward. "Come on in," Tim told the nurse.

She brought in a tray, coffee … juice … toast. Scrambled eggs. She put the meal on a table with wheels, rolled it to Todd so he could eat in bed. The door swung closed with a hiss, Todd keeping his eyes on the door for some time before picking at the food with his fingers. Tasting it. Rejecting it. He took a sip of the coffee … put it back down. He pushed the table which caused the cup of juice to spill, the orangey water spreading across the tray. He touched the spreading liquid, licked his fingers. He grimaced, dropped his eyes. He then raised his shirt and ran his fingers over the scratches, tracing the lines.

_Blood lines … ought to be deeper, redder. Ought to cover me. I want to feel that pain - make me come with that pain. It's my body, Peter … MINE. I fucking own it. I decide when to kill it, maim it, mark it up all pretty and shit. Like me now, bitch?_

Todd moved his hands up to his neck under the shirt. He caressed the red markings there with one hand, holding up his hair with the other, closing his eyes. The damage mesmerized him… an elation at the control over his body that he still had, over a thing that nobody could stop. He dropped his hand, pinched his nipple hard under his shirt. Bit his lip at the pain.

Tim pressed a hand on Todd's arm, interrupted the dreaminess, seeing what he did … trying to pull him back to the here and now. "Does it make you feel better when you self-injure?" Tim recognized a sexual response happening. Curious.

VERY curious.

Todd didn't respond and leaned back against the headboard, his skin a little … _flushed_. He ran his tongue over his lips, wetting them. His hand dropped to his crotch. Squeezed ever so slightly. Let go, pulling his hair back. He breathed slowly out. Whatever he was feeling was passing. He sniffed and looked around, eyes landing on the doctor.

"When you self-injure, it feels good, but the bad feelings come back after a while, don't they? What you get, doesn't last."

Todd took that in and shifted in the bed, hard up against the headboard.

"I'd like to teach you something. The start of a technique you'll eventually learn how to do really well. Can I tell you about it?"

Todd's eyes darkened. His mouth turned into a frown. Eyes off the doctor, on the sheets.

_I'm condemned. Can't you see? Come here … come closer to me … let me show you how fucking condemned I am. Let me rip your heart out with my hands - cut your eyes out – eat your entrails._

"When you feel the need to hurt yourself, when you feel the heavy anxiety leading up to it, I want you to lie down or sit, wherever you are, and totally relax your body." Tim exaggerated a slumped position, noticing in the periphery of his vision a trace of a smirk on Todd's face, a blip of amusement. It faded though, fast as it had come on.

"I want you to think about lying on a beach with the waves crashing in front of you or think about listening to a beautiful symphony on a spring day in the park or breathing in the cool air in the middle of peaceful forest. This is a type of meditation. Every time the need to hurt yourself pops up, practice clearing your mind. Concentrate on the images I'm telling you about. In time, you'll be able to lessen the anxiety, lower the volume. The need to self-injure will lessen."

As Tim was talking, he noticed Todd's expression grow incredibly sad, eyes rounding, his face falling, his body weakening.

Todd closed his eyes, the gentle sound of kindness foreign to him, unfamiliar. The echo of Peter Manning's voice bounced around within him, "_You're nothing but a pathetic loser! You can't do anything right! You're stupid and ugly … and I wish you'd just die. I'm going to make you pay, Thomas Todd Manning. Your mother will NEVER come back for you. She despises you and would rather do anything else than be with you._"

An image blew up before him … bloody, painful … so fucking painful …

Todd gasped and his eyes flew open …instantly in a state of terror, almost unable to breathe. He touched the air in front of him, hands out in a kind of self-protection. His mouth opened as if to scream. Nothing came. He was completely frozen. Completely unseeing.

Tim straightened, studying Todd. "Hey, hey…" Tim passed a hand in front of Todd's eyes, and saw no reaction. Tapped him. Nothing. His patient was exhibiting a catatonic episode. "What's upset you, kiddo? Can you tell me?" Lifting his watch, Tim counted the minutes. Meds would help this. Wow.

Soon, almost four minutes according to Tim's watch, his patient's eyes shifted, he licked his lips, pulling his hands into himself. He turned his head to study the man before him so willing to help, so eager, so _there._ Then he hid his face behind his hands, drawing up his knees, one foot on top of the other. Childlike.

_I cannot tell, I cannot tell. I thought I could be saved, but I can't. I'm ruined, destroyed and condemned. I've been crushed._

The withdrawal wasn't enough - he slid under the covers of the bed, curling into a fetal position.

_I cannot tell. I cannot tell. Shhhhhhh…_

Tim furrowed his brows in concern, smoothing back his curly blond hair. He stayed in the chair next to Todd, who had since closed his eyes and covered his head with his bandaged arms, _gingerly_. Pain, Tim thought, he feels the pain of his injuries. Perhaps with that, he'll also begin to talk of the pain of the greater injury he has yet to acknowledge.

* * *

In her office, Viki stared at her wedding ring which she now wore on her right hand. She was so lonely sometimes for Sloan Carpenter, her husband who passed away several years ago. She still longed for his company and love even though it had been years since he had been in her life. Of course, she still longed for the one true love of her life, for Joe Riley who'd died many years ago, longer than she cared to remember.

Todd was foremost on her mind, however, achingly so. Up until this morning, he wasn't recognizing anything or anyone so she still hadn't actually been able to be with him. She wanted to sit with him, talk with him, make up for missing his messages to her, his messages of death. Perhaps, this afternoon she'd be able to do so. She'd grown to love him and was amazed he was the same young man who'd walked into her home so long ago, that striking boy who had hidden agendas and who would eventually embark on a violent rampage across the countryside.

The phone rang and Viki hoped it was the hospital with more news–but was glad anyway at getting Kevin.

"Oh thank God," she said, "Why haven't you called? How's your research coming along?"

"Well, I've learned...quite a bit." Kevin stood at the pay phone and watched Jedediah a ways away flip through a magazine as he sat at a table in the hotel restaurant awaiting breakfast. Kevin proceeded to run down the events of the previous days, outlining what he'd found out about Michelle from Beatrice and the police records.

Viki, in turn, gave the rundown on Todd's condition. Kevin hadn't really wanted to ask, but admittedly liked hearing about the glimmer of improvement. He decided then to go ahead and drop the bomb.

"Um… so mom… uh… Todd's got a son, pending DNA testing. But we don't really need one….he's the spitting image of Uncle Todd."

Viki was more than a little surprised at hearing about Jedediah – however, as was her way, she turned it around into something hopeful. Maybe learning about this boy would be good for her brother, maybe he'd feel compelled to wake himself up out the sleep he was in … _maybe, maybe, maybe_. Give it time. They ended their conversation on that up-note at which point, Viki headed to the hospital.

* * *

Viki sat next to Todd's bed as he lay quietly on his side. This was the first time she'd seen him up close, personal. He was a completely different person and it broke her heart. He was like a child. Quiet quiet. He wouldn't get out of bed. Too weak, too sick, too broken. To her shock, he touched her hand gently, fingering the gold band. Never before would he have touched her in this way. Again, like a child. He grimaced when he laid his arm wrong. Yes, yes, she wanted to shout. Tim was right. He was definitely feeling physical pain, a good thing.

"Sloan gave the ring to me," she said. "We loved each other so much. It can hurt impossibly deep when you lose someone close to you. They become part of you, and when they're gone, it's like losing a limb. But you do recover … you learn to live without that person … learn to love again."

When Viki instinctively tried to touch Todd's hand, he pulled back into himself, roughly.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. It's the mother in me. It's so hard for me to sit by and not try to comfort you the way I did with my own children when they were hurt."

Todd stared at Viki, wearing an expression of annoyance for her having invaded his space. She smiled to herself - THAT was the Todd she knew. The sadness returned though. The fingertips back on her hand, her ring.

_You're my sister and you know all about secrets, don't you? We're similar that way. How do you keep it from coming up over and over, like a loop, repeating, repeating? How do you cut it up into pieces so it's not recognizable any more? Shhhhhhh. Don't tell, don't tell._

"What's going on with you, where's the Todd I've known all these years? Where are you?" She said this more to herself than to the injured bird in the imaginary cage that lay in front of her so helplessly. Todd started paying attention to his own hand, his own fingers, comparing them to Viki's. She watched as his eyes moved from himself to her and back again.

Tim told her about Todd retreating into himself as a defense-mechanism, that he'd stopped communicating verbally so he couldn't talk about what had led him here. The timing was unambiguous. He'd started to say things, to give hints about a trauma that had occurred in his life. Possibly he thought he'd given up too much information so was punishing himself for having reached out.

A self-mutilation of a different sort.

"Do you want to take a walk to the consultation room? It's a beautiful day - the afternoon sun pouring into the room is so..._uplifting._"

Todd shook his head, wincing, and curled tighter.

"It's alright. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do."

Todd calmed himself and after a while, with Viki watching over him, he dozed off.

She watched him sleep - his eyes moving beneath their lids, the occasional jerking of his muscles - and found herself tightening her hands into fists. She felt constrained, manacled. How she wanted to comfort him, her natural maternal instincts overwhelming. She wasn't used to being on this end of things. She was always able to help her children, able to love them into being healthier, happier. Clint probably felt this way with her, when she struggled with her own illness, when she was unable to be comforted.

Nothing like this. Todd's brutality to himself haunted her. She looked at the scabbed scratches on his neck, looked at the bandaging on his arms, knowing that underneath the gauze lay deep cuts which had nearly killed him. She recalled the burns he'd inflicted on himself. She thought of the drugs. How did a person get to this level of self-hatred, to abuse themselves so violently?

He hated himself so much he couldn't tolerate the tender touch of another human being, couldn't accept affection or love. He recoiled from it as if it were acid – though if it _were_ acid, he'd probably have accepted it. She took a breath to stop herself from getting emotional, forced herself to be thankful he was still alive, that the gift of time with him was still precious. With that, she sat back, waiting for him to let her in, and closed her eyes to the warm afternoon sun.

As Todd slept, images came to life in his mind, dancing about him like Indians in an old Western. He saw the lit fireplace, felt a soft female body underneath him and the rough fabric of a sofa as he rolled over, as she moved to get on top of him. She cooed loving words which glided across his skin, her tongue wetting his chest, his nipples, moving up and culminating in a deep, open-mouthed kiss. She thumped her hips against his … rubbing up and down, faster and faster … and soon a powerful orgasm spread through him like a storm, gripping the core of his being, his soul, his heart. He heard her gasping in time with his movements, then her own moment of passion. He heard the sound of keys in the door.

_Don't tell, don't tell. You're evil and disgusting. You liked it. You asked for it. Shhhhhh, don't tell, don't tell._

Todd opened his eyes suddenly, his dreams becoming too real, pain ripping through him. He'd ejaculated … the last bit of an erection still there to let him know what happened, reminding him … laying it out for him. He looked around shakily, scratching his chest, briefly touching himself to confirm his condition. Sick, sick, sick. A voice pulsated in his head, pounding. _You asked for it. You liked it. _He sat up to a startled Viki and motioned that he needed to get off the bed, stumbling, almost falling, fighting the sheets.

"What is it? What's wrong?" She didn't know what to do, not sure how to get someone into the room. She didn't want to leave him, not even for a second. She stood up, tried to get close to him, but he was too upset and could hurt her, she knew.

He paced the room, hunching over slightly. He rubbed his head and began to cry, his face crumpling, tears flowing, but no sound. It was an agonizing sight.

"Todd, please tell me, what do you need?"

Oblivious to her, he dropped to his knees and crawled on the floor, awkwardly moving to protect his arms. They hurt so much, so blindingly much. At last he scrunched himself inside the closet, rocking himself once there, shaking his head, _no, no, no._ When his effort at soothing didn't work to stop the images, he hit his head against the wall, slow at first, but growing harder, more intense. He kept up the violent, rhythmic motion. It was so noisy in his head and he had to stop it … _so noisy._ His body betrayed him, his mind had turned on him.

_Please stop the voices! The pictures! Please tell him to shut up, please tell him to go away! Please stop hurting me…. oh God, make it go away, make it go away._

Viki tried to stop him by calling to him. She got down to his level and tried to stop him, but he was too strong, too deep in a delusion. She ran out at that, calling to an orderly. Tim heard her and came sprinting into the room.

"I got him, it's all right."

He kneeled in front of his anguished patient, holding his head so he couldn't move it, urging him to gain control.

"Relax your body, think of what I told you. Come on, kiddo, think of the beach or the symphony in the park, or just here. Think of where we are. Remember? Come on, whatever you're feeling, hearing, seeing, it _will_ stop … concentrate …"

Todd jerked his head against Tim's strong hands on him, and he tried, God, he tried to think of something else, but the onslaught was non-stop, the images and physical sensations kept coming at him, pounding him, pulverizing whatever sense of self he had. He tried to focus except the reality of what was happening hurt so _fucking_ much. It was tearing him apart … bloody and awful and horrible … a nightmare playing out … he was there again.

_There._

"Ah it's not going to work," Tim huffed to himself. He struggled with Todd, trying to grab hold of him around his shoulders, around his waist, Todd being incredibly strong and damn determined to do things his way. At last the doctor got a grip, got good leverage, and pulled him away from the closet, pulled him into a tight hold, the only way to prevent Todd from hurting himself any further.

Held in place by Tim's strong arms and legs, he jerked fiercely … fighting the relentless pictures and sounds and sensations … so real, so here-and-now. His own fourteen-year-old groans and screams scraped through his brain, fiery, the fade-out of that noise coming, too, the moment when he couldn't scream anymore … and the pain … _Jesus … the pain of it all_ … choked him. _God, let me die now. Don't let me finish this out. Save me. _But the show always finished, always played through to the credits.

_This has been a Peter Manning Production._

"Come on, Todd … it's okay …you're safe, nobody's going to hurt you anymore. You're safe here. HERE." Tim struggled to control the flailing patient in his arms, Todd sweating and hot, his head pressed firmly against Tim's broad chest. A couple of orderlies stood in the doorway ready to help, but Tim didn't ask, didn't need it. Long long minutes rolled by. Todd's feet rubbed hard on the carpet. He was fighting so hard. So so... hard...

"Think kiddo, think of other places..."

Other thoughts did eventually start to peek around the corners in Todd's mind. They popped in quick and receded again, like hummingbirds. They twittered their way in through cracks in the miles-thick and miles-high wall Todd had built to protect his broken soul, the same wall that kept him trapped. He begged them to come in, to come into his Hell, just like the doc suggested.

Tim could tell something was changing, the tension starting to decrease, the violent motions beginning to slow down, to lessen in their power – at last.

"Okay, okay," Tim rasped, looking at Todd's long legs stretched out, twitching still. "You're ok. It's over, all over." Todd had his eyes open, looking into the distance with an unfocused gaze. His lips parted in a tired, just-been-through-something way. He was wet all over…from the sweat, from tears, from everything.

"Okay, okay," Tim whispered, "Must be a perfect day at the beach."

In fact, truthfully, Todd was with Starr, his beautiful Starr, at the park. She was smiling and blissful, riding a carousel, going around and around. Her hair was long and flying all over the place, two front teeth were missing – the word, "Love," sparkled on her pink t-shirt. She was a princess – HIS princess. Todd pushed the carousel to make it go faster and her giggles massaged his shattered heart as he laughed with her, watching her hang onto the metal bars so she wouldn't fall. Crinkling his eyes, he saw how the sun lit up the world in the most serene light, glinting off the benches and the monkey bars and the swings. Brilliant. He grabbed hold of the bars and pushed some more, sand flying up when Todd jumped away after giving a particularly hard push. Starr laughed so hard she could barely breathe, screaming into the air, "I love you, Daddy!"

It was wonderful.

_She loves you - she's thankful for you._

All the while, Viki had held her hands to her mouth, watching helplessly. She was so relieved when Todd relaxed fully and slumped into the doctor, drained. Tim took a breath, waited a couple of moments, and then moved. Adjusted his position. With a heave, like a circus strongman, he picked Todd up in his thick arms and laid him down on the bed. Todd stayed on his back, not having the energy or the groundedness to curl up in defense.

Tim felt the back of Todd's head, feeling for injuries. Felt wetness. Sure as shit, the kid had hit himself hard enough to draw blood. Not bad… but enough. He walked to the bathroom, washed his hands. Wetted a washcloth.

After cleaning the wound, Tim turned to a devastated Viki, asking sincerely, "Are you okay? That's not easy to see."

She answered tearfully, "I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how to help him." Viki closed her eyes, the tears stinging. "It's different on this side."

"What happened exactly? Can you tell me? We can wait a while, if you want."

Although still in shock and wishing she could just crawl into the closet like Todd had, she repeated what she'd seen, talking all the while with her eyes firmly on her brother.

"He's fighting a memory of some sort, I'm sure of it," Tim said, glancing at Todd. "Might have been dreaming about it. So he woke up, distressed, then … a flashback got triggered. This is putting a new light on the other attacks he's suffered – probably all flashbacks." Tim walked closer to Todd and lightly stroked his forehead, studying his patient. "It's a bit like a seizure … he's going to sleep for a while, recovering."

"Tell me how to help him," Viki said. Sadness swam in her eyes.

"All you can do is keep doing what you're doing. I'm not sure if you picked up on this but I think he listened to the relaxation technique. Do you know what a big step that is? It wasn't all that long ago when he was totally delusional, not responsive to _anything_ I said. The only bits of conversation have gone nowhere. Today, he heard me – and I think he acted on what I said. It's a good thing."

"But if he won't talk and if he's having these sorts of memories...? How will he heal? It's awful, just awful." She didn't explain that his pain was familiar territory - seeing it reminded her of her own nightmares.

"What's happening is still a step forward because the memory is coming out, as opposed to staying locked up. And it's coming whether he likes it or not, whether he's talking or not. And THAT can lead to healing." Viki walked back to the chair, scooting it closer to Todd.

The doctor left her, after she assured him that she was fine.

After some time, Todd came around and slowly turned his head to look at his sister. His face weakly questioned her presence and Viki understood.

"I'm here because I love you, Todd, because you are _loveable_."

He watched her… rolled over. Away from her. Stared at the walls…

_No, no, no… I am nothing._

**To be continued….**


	7. Chapter 7

**On the Edge of Wakefulness**

**Chapter 7**

The West Virginian temperature had dropped significantly, but Jedediah and Kevin didn't mind as they hiked back to Michelle's jumping point at the New River. They had spent the week searching for the witnesses, only to discover they were both dead. They did locate a daughter, and were waiting for her to make contact. Kevin spoke to Cassie, sensing a strange distance. He was concerned and needed to get back home but couldn't leave yet, not with so much to do

Today, they wanted to see Michelle's cliff by the light of day, unobstructed. Once they reached the edge of the river, they were struck by an obvious discrepancy in the witness statements. There was no way they could have seen Michelle jump from the places they claimed to have been at.

"The picnic tables are too damn far away," Kevin grumbled.

He walked all the way back to the tables, thinking perhaps they had been moved. After all, it had been over eight years since Michelle plunged to her death. He studied the tables, noticing they were chained down and very weathered. The cliff was rocky, trees surrounding the tables, and just way too much distance, there being an actual bend in the line of vision. The tables had not been moved.

Kevin plunked himself down at one of the tables, trying to figure things out.

Jedediah paced on the deadened grass, eyeing the horizon. He hadn't quite been himself since Kevin told him about Todd. Since he saw the pictures. Since Kevin implied that maybe Todd… hurt Michelle. Wondered if it was code for date rape. "Your daddy was beautiful and came from Heaven just to give me, you," she had told him. Those words carried Jed, made him feel special. He grew up feeling loved despite the secret.

Now her words mystified him. Could she have described her _rapist_ that way? Todd's smoldering look on the computer screen was intimidating and disturbing as hell. Truth was... he couldn't say for sure this guy DIDN'T hurt his mother.

This shook him.

As Jedediah watched Kevin in his careful study of the logistics on the picnic tables, he spotted an old bearded man walking toward the two. White hair under a cap, too many wrinkles to reveal whether he was black or white. He walked slowly but steadily with a long wooden stick in his hand, worn and craggy but sturdy. He nodded to Kevin and Jedediah, a mischievous look on his face.

"Have ya' seen her?"

Kevin and Jedediah both looked at each other, knowing the old man didn't know about their mission and wasn't talking about Michelle.

"Seen who?" they both asked, the words sounding like a joke needing a punch line.

"Miracle. Da' angel who comforts li'l chillun when dey cry and who love da' babies. She heal da' sick when dey is seein' tings and only is seen by da' dyin'."

"Silly ghost stories, old man," Kevin said, grinning at the storyteller.

"Not so, chile. It da' truth."

"Yeah?" Jedediah pushed.

"Dey say she live in da hills among dem hillbillies. Dey claim her to be dey own. Dey protective over dey Miracle. Dat why nobody down here see her durin' da light a' day." He raised his eyebrows at the men and chuckled as he walked away. "Don' be scared, chillun, don' be scared."

"Think I've been out here too long," Kevin said as he and Jedediah watched the old man disappear down the trail.

Jedediah sat heavily at one of the picnic tables looking towards Michelle's jumping point.

"I used to imagine my mom wasn't dead," he said. "Made up stories like that old man's, made up places where she could be. I gave up those dreams and wishes a long time ago." Jedediah reached into his backpack and pulled out a plastic bag with some hand-rolled cigarettes. He took out an old lighter and lit one up.

Kevin didn't think anything until he smelled the distinct skunky smell of marijuana.

"Jesus, put that away, Jed!"

Jedediah chuckled at Kevin's uptightness, his mood lifting somewhat. "Who's gonna catch me? Don' be scared a'da weed!" He took a puff, breathing deeply, holding it and letting out the remnants into the air. "I'm not a pothead if that's what you're thinking. Don't do it that often."

Kevin shook his head at the teenager in front of him, thinking about Todd and his drug use. Shocking truthfully. Thought… _gateway drug_. He watched the boy puff away like an expert … and did nothing about it. Not sure if it was his place to be a parent. Kids, yeah?

Turning around, he focused again on the cliff, listening to the roar of the river. Imagined this woman, Michelle, jumping to her death … the way Todd had cut himself up so he could die, too. _Shit._

Jedediah tapped out the lit embers of the joint and, once assured that it was no longer burning, replaced it into the plastic bag which would then go into the backpack. Kevin grabbed the bag out of his hand, deciding it WAS his place to act a parent.

"Hey!"

"No. As long as you're with me, none a'this."

Jedediah started to object … but then grit his teeth and didn't argue. After a second or two, he shrugged, and said, "Let's hit the road, dude."

* * *

Todd opened his eyes to Satan staring down at him. He was too weak to respond, too weak to cry out, lying on his back like an upturned turtle. Satan growled. "Don't move. You are almost where I want you." Cruel laughter pelted Todd's body. "Let's talk about that night. How much you_ liked_ it."

Something spoke to him, whispered to him, a voice giving him strength. Todd whispered, "No."

"Wrong answer! You dream about it, boy. I hear you, crying out. It's ecstasy I hear in your voice. You wake up _wet_."

_Don't listen to him Todd, don't listen. I am here._

Satan suddenly grabbed Todd by the hair and lifted his face close to his, his breath on Todd's face. Sheer terror stopped him from breathing. "It would be so easy to break your neck but I won't allow myself the pleasure because I don't want to spoil my fun. Not yet."

Todd, a rag doll in the hands of Satan, tried to listen to that other voice in his head, the one swimming inside of him.

_Where,_ he asked, _where are you?_

Satan forced his son to his feet, and stared into his eyes. Running his tongue up Todd's cheek, he laughed bitterly. Finally, he threw Todd back down on the volcanic floor, face down. Satan lay on top of him, grabbing Todd by the back of the head once more, lifting him so he could see his face.

"Why don't we have a little reunion?"

_Shhhhhh, baby, shhhhhh, I'm here._

* * *

Todd huddled on a couch in the consultation room, a bright common area in the lock-down ward where other patients milled, played board games and even visited with guests. His long hair was pulled into a ponytail. He had a neatly trimmed goatee, thanks to thoughtful attendants. He wore dark-blue sweat pants with a long-sleeved knit shirt, his clothes of preference. Barefoot. For the past several days, he had taken to walking around with no socks and at night, sleeping on the floor with no shirt on. There was no getting him on the bed. Wherever he would sit, he'd repeatedly scrape the rug with his feet. Curl his toes on the loops.

Tim ventured his patient was trying to keep the world real to him, needing to feel the rough carpet beneath him. His existence was hard. He struggled with daily flashbacks, each one becoming more and more violent, the terror increasingly intense, the tears, the sweat… the continued silence.

But one thing had changed drastically. The eyes that would flash at Tim were seeing eyes. Cognizant eyes. Todd had left the world of disconnectedness and had come into a state of awareness. He was back on earth.

That meant... words were coming. It was only a matter of time. They'd been sitting here for about half an hour. Tim talking, Todd listening, or at least… pretending to listen.

"Remember I told you that sometimes it's easier to recall those incidents, and deal with them, if you pretend to be a far away witness?"

Todd didn't look at his healer as he spoke, but rather concentrated on the sunlight beaming into the room, sunlight that created a checkered pattern on the carpet from the slats in the windows. He studied the shadows. He sometimes watched a patient, but always returned to the shadows.

"One idea is to imagine floating above the incident or looking at it from outside a window. Once you gain that distance, you can speak more easily about the incident, more easily express your feelings about it."

Todd suddenly turned to the doctor, flashing a tired expression, looking Tim right in the eyes, and to Tim's surprise, rasped, "Easier said than done. Never happened to YOU."

Tim popped back. Nodded. "Well hello, Todd Manning." The doctor had to resist smiling. The words had indeed come. Todd went back to the light, studying the shadows.

"You're right. It didn't happen to me. Why don't you tell me what happened to you."

Todd said nothing.

"The flashbacks you're experiencing are a message and they're saying you need to face something in your past."

"Go away," Todd whispered.

"The day you stop fighting the memory will be the day you start to heal." Tim decided to shut up. Just sat, waiting.

Sure enough, the quiet brought out a scratchy voice. "Nothing happened. Having a bad dream. That's all … it isn't real."

"The images you see are not real with regard to current time. I suspect the memories are very real … they happened."

Todd's face scrunched with hurt and anger … he rubbed his face … and eyed the sunlight again. Said quietly, "Never happened."

"Ok, but whatever it is, is coming at you with guns blazing and demanding your attention. So let's pay attention, together. Let's give it a voice and maybe then the flashbacks will go away. You'll be able to get on with your life."

"You don't understand."

"Try me."

There was no response. Todd's eyes returned to the windows, their shadows and light which offered hope to the hopeless. The pain in his body was so tiring to him, so draining. He wanted to sleep, to disappear. He missed his daughter intensely, but was so afraid for her, so afraid that he would do what Satan said he would do that he didn't dare ask or inquire about her. Keep her safe, keep her far away from me, he thought. He quelled a powerful wave of sorrow, closing his eyes.

"You've been pretty easy on Michael about the bath for the past couple of days. I think he really appreciated it. The fill-in orderly today said you weren't as . . . compliant. How come?"

Sad eyes landed on the doctor. "Don't like being touched. I hurt all over."

"We have medication for that. Can I get you to try it?"

Said softly, "I had another medication in mind."

"The drugs you were using are partly responsible for your psychosis. They won't take away what happened to you. They won't address your pain."

"Nothing happened to me!" At the last word, Todd choked back a sob, taking a deep breath to stop it. A hand on his face, eyes out the window. "Go away, go away, go away," he whispered.

"Okay, kiddo, okay." Tim could see how tired his patient was of the flashbacks. He was in agony. The detox was over however, and he would be put on medication soon. He might get to feeling better. They sat quietly for a short while, Tim wanting Todd to work through whatever emotions he was feeling before pressing ahead.

As they sat listening to their own thoughts, a janitor with a large set of keys jingling in his hand walked past the room and Tim noted Todd's immediate reaction to the sound. He turned to the noise, rubbed his hair delicately. He licked his lips and his expression became dreamy, faraway. Tim hopped up and kneeled in front of him. Another flashback. This was not letting him go.

"Todd, look at me, look at me. Remember what I told you, the distancing." Tim checked Todd's pulse, it was fast like his breathing. "Tell me what you're seeing."

"No, no, no, can't tell." Todd felt himself drifting, floating. Yet his body was heavy and he had no energy to move it. He started to shake uncontrollably. He knew what was coming and was already feeling the terror, the pain.

"Todd, relax your body, see yourself above the memory."

Todd wrapped his arms around himself and held himself, rocking, his eyes closed and emitting a low moan. "I can't, I can't…" He slammed against the back of the couch, as if something hit him. Images started to bombard him, the dark terrifying story unfolding in front of him and shocking his entire system.

"Tell me what you see by putting yourself above the scene. You aren't actually there, you're only watching it happen from far away. It's only a memory, Todd, realize that. Tell me what you see."

_Listen to him, baby. Listen to him._

Although Todd was stricken with pain, on the verge of tears, he started to speak in between hard breaths.

"Her, I see her, Michelle. Her face, her hair, she's underneath me, looking at me and I'm warm, It's... it's the fireplace….making me so hot." He started to cry, whimpering, "I'm so hot…"

"Good, good, great...keep talking."

Todd's eyes flew open suddenly, his lips parting in a silent gasp, his hands shooting out in front of him. "Oh god, oh god, no, no, no, no, no ..." His body convulsed at whatever he was looking at, his hands firmly out. Then after a moment, he covered his ears, and then slid onto his side, still on the couch. His eyes closed, tears wet his cheeks. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

"It's okay. You're very, very safe. Tell me what's happening now."

Choked words came, "Oh no, oh no… oh no…I cannot tell, I cannot tell, I cannot tell. I'll die if I tell."

His voice was ragged, the words spat in between hard breaths.

"Who says you can't tell?"

"Peter! He has keys, he's here, I can't tell, I can't tell. I'll die if I tell. I'll die … and I don't want to die, don't let me die … please, please, don't let me die …"

_Peter_, Tim thought. _We got a new name, people. And Peter says, don't tell._

Todd started crying, hardly able to breathe, his shaking becoming violent.

"Nothing is going to happen to you if you tell, Todd. Nothing at all. You're ok, you're here in the hospital. You're very safe, very very safe."

Tim thought the memory was fading, the flashback ending, but suddenly there was an uptick.

Hands flew out again… "Oh God … tell him to stop! STOP!" He screamed, groaning, and it was horrible, sounding like someone was tearing limbs off him, the noise dragging... Tim glanced at the nurse, seconds from giving him a sedative. This was too hard. Too damn hard.

"TODD! Pull away from it! Come on, kiddo!" He slipped at the pain of watching it, "Aww shit…" Waved for the nurse.

Todd pulled at his clothes, trying to protect himself, pushing himself into the pillows of the couch. The hard breaths became even further strangled. All of a sudden, he stopped the frenzied movements, hands grabbing the edge of the couch, knuckles white. Feet digging into the fabric. His mouth opened, all breath cut off… eyes completely unseeing. The nurse came over, kneeled down.

"Pull yourself away from the pictures, Todd, it's not happening now. Focus on distancing yourself, you're only an observer."

After a few moments, Todd finally took a deep breath, breathing but not as choked. Features relaxing, body relaxing. Tim wiped away the tears on his face. "Okay, okay, it's over…" He shook his head at the nurse, no meds.

"Ok, you're doing great, so great. You're completely safe … where are you now?"

Todd whimpered pitifully, shivering as if he were cold. "I don't know…"

"How old are you?"

Whispered, "I'm fourteen ..."

Tim moved himself onto the couch, Todd having rolled onto his back, his arms curled into his chest, his knees pulling up. Tim sighed. _Fourteen_. What a very long time ago. How cruel to be coming back now. Tim was convinced now beyond all doubt that his patient was experiencing a memory, that it happened, that it had been repressed, that it was back now with a mad vengeance.

This thing was demanding to be SEEN.

"Oh God, let me die, it's better, so much better … let me die. Please, please, please... I don't want to see it anymore…"

"You're going to get through this. Nobody will hurt you, I won't hurt you. You're ok, you're safe. You did phenomenal work. Keep talking..."

Todd whispered the warnings that haunted him, "No, no, no, no, no, don't tell, don't tell." He closed his eyes and slipped into his usual lethargy which more resembled a stunned sleep. He'd cut off his telling of the memory in its tracks again. What he did manage though was a huge step forward. At least his patient tried, at least he attempted to help himself by talking, even if it was only in snippets. Phenomenal! Especially having been told "not to tell" by probably a powerful man in his life at an incredibly vulnerable time in his life. _Fourteen._

His patient lay on his back on the couch, his eyes remaining closed, whimpering in his unnatural sleep. Tim was thankful that the self-imposed silence had passed.

So what was Todd revealing? Clearly he remembered physical contact with Michelle, a young love, and it sounded sexual. Then what? This had been a violent, torturous incident, no doubt criminal. This _Peter _person had done something or at least knew about it and told Todd not to tell. _Peter _had to be a strong prohibiting force. The nurse brought Todd's file to Tim. He read his notes. Reviewed the extensive bio, criminal history, family history. History, history.

_Show yourself, Peter…._

"Got ya," the doctor huffed. Strong authoritative figure, all-powerful to a fourteen-year-old boy. A man named Peter who could threaten him with, _don't tell,_ and that boy would listen… listen so deeply that his brain would block out that thing for nearly sixteen years. Ladies and gents, lemme introduce you to…

… _Peter Manning_, Todd's adopted father.

* * *

Cassie and Sam spent hours working on the case in Sam's office and night had finally arrived. Kevin had been gone for so long and, despite Cassie's uncertainty about Kevin's role in the bribery scheme, she missed him terribly. Nevertheless, she understood his need to pursue this story about Michelle.

He wanted to absolve himself of his guilt at having gone after Todd so hard about Georgie's murder. Not that she agreed with it. He had no reason to be guilty – Todd was a tornado in Llanview, destructive and dangerous to everything and everyone in his path. If there was a crisis involving Todd, one could bet he would drag ten other people into his stormy tantrum. Truth was she was surprised he hadn't attempted to kill himself years earlier.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Sam presenting what they had so far, practicing for the real game.

"We have a really good picture based on all the cases that have gone through Campbell's courtroom, a real pattern of bribery." He had created a map which identified all the properties picked for condemnation during the past two years. He obtained appraisals on each of the properties and declarations of each property owner. It didn't take a rocket scientist to see what was going on.

"The only thing we need is hard proof," he murmured.

The Mole was entirely correct in the story he told. The city of Llanview chose the optimum properties first, picked the neediest owners, and condemned those properties, essentially purchasing them for way under fair market value. The court approved the condemnations, decisions in direct conflict with the legal standard for eminent domain, because the corrupt parties knew the owners did not have the money to appeal the proceedings. The city pushed the condemned properties through their channels because they also had key representatives who were in on the deal. Everybody approved. But the deals were rotten to the core. Had the owners actually put up the property for sale through the regular channels, the owners would have gotten far more money than under the condemnation proceeding. In turn, Wormwood and Associates could not have purchased the property for as cheap as they got it from the city.

"Unbelievable," Cassie noted.

"Yup."

Cassie and Sam both stared at the elaborate chart which explained the long-running scam. The big difference now was that even though Judge Austin Campbell would approve the latest condemnation, Sam was willing to help bankroll the appeal for Carlotta Vega and her diner. Judge Campbell would then be on trial in the Court of Appeals. The story would be boosted by Cassie's expose. He was going to fry along with all the other participants. Cassie realized this might include Kevin and his family – not really seeing any way around it.

"What about this Wormwood and Associates?" Sam hadn't really been able to research the company which was instrumental in this whole scam and was hoping Cassie had been able to get information.

She looked at him, about to jump into something ugly and unexpected.

"Wormwood and Associates is a wholly-owned subsidiary," she said.

"Yeah? Who's the shareholder?"

Cassie shook her head. "Hold on to your hat. The sole shareholder is Manning Management Company, owned by Phillip Manning, out of Chicago, Illinois."

"What?

"Phillip Manning is Todd's cousin, a nephew of Todd's father - very rich and very corrupt. He's only managed to stay out of prison thanks to very expensive lawyers."

"You think Todd has anything to do with this?"

"I don't know yet. Do they even know each other?"

"I've no idea." Sam sat for a moment and then spoke again. "Cassie, please do me a favor."

"What?"

"If you find anything, anything at all, linking Todd to this . . . _mess_ . . . will you tell me first before you publish anything or tell anyone else? Can you do that for me? I don't want anything else to hurt him right now."

Cassie wanted to say exactly what was on her mind about Todd, but she didn't. With a hint of resentment, she said, "I promise to tell you first. Doesn't mean it won't eventually hit the press."

"Thank you."

The two kicked back on Sam's black leather couch, surrounded by paper and charts, each mulling over their findings and each feeling a little mixed-up over their own troubles. Despite the conflict, they knew they had to move forward - hoping not too many innocents, or unfortunate guilty parties, would be destroyed in the process.

* * *

Tanya, the swing-shift nurse, was making the rounds with the assistance of an orderly, checking out the patients in Llanview Psychiatric Hospital's locked ward as they received their dinners.

As the nurse approached Todd's room, she noticed him laughing to himself on the bed, lying down with his feet up on the headboard. His long hair messily fell about his face and shoulders and he didn't appear to be visually focusing on anything in particular. Very odd behavior for this particular patient, noting it on his chart at a quarter past five o'clock.

She and the orderly exchanged glances and opened his door. Todd looked up and smirked, "Well, well, if it isn't Tweedle Dee and Tweedle _Dum."_ He laughed at his own joke adding, "I hope you're not serving me dinner tonight because I don't need it." He covered his face with his hands, groaning and chuckling at the same time.

"Mr. Manning, since you don't want dinner, I'll need to take your vitals. Can we do that?"

"Vitals? Vitals? I'll give you vitals, baby." Todd swung his legs around until they hit the floor and he tried to stand up. Lost his balance and crumpled to the floor, grabbing onto the bed, and chuckling over it. When he got back up, he pointed his finger at her and walked toward the nurse, getting too close for comfort.

The orderly, Martin, stepped in front of her, blocking Todd's advancement and smiling openly.

"Hey, buddy, what's up with you tonight?"

"What's up? With me? I just want to give her my vitals, what's wrong with that, huh?"

Todd laughed again, a real laugh, then closed his eyes and stretched his neck muscles, once to each side. Breathing in deeply. He then shook his head. He turned around, starting to walk back to the bed.

Murmured, "What's wrong with me, they ask? Shit. Nothing … not a fuckin' thing. You should let me outta of this place."

Todd spun on his heels back to face the staff which stood quietly, staring at him.

"Hey, can I get some music in here or something? I feel so fucking good! I wanna DANCE!"

Something was definitely wrong. The attendants eyed each other.

"Patience, patience," he groaned, "let it go by and then it'll be better. Alllll better. Like butter. _Better like butter._" He laughed hard and plopped down on his bed, putting his bare feet up on the headboard, singing an 80's David Bowie song, "Let's dance…buh-da bup-bup dee-duh … let's dance …"

The nurse was visibly nervous, but had to get his vital signs to check what was going on because this was not the same person she'd seen only two hours before.

"Where's the fuckin' music, man?"

Tanya tried her negotiating skills. "You want music, no problem. But we need to make a deal for it."

"Hey, you make the deal, I'll give whatever you want, _babeeee…_"

Todd grimaced, and hit the side of his head again, several times, grumbling, "No, no, no, no, shut-up, just shut the fuck up…." He breathed deeply and re-composed himself, looking back at his new tormentors and speaking less aggressively for the moment.

"Ok, ok. What you need?"

Tanya smiled, "All right, we have a negotiator here."

"That's me! Negotiator, deal maker, I'm hot tonight!"

Todd smiled his most charming smile and offered up his wrists.

"Do me, do me up good," he sighed. Tanya reached for him, seeing the sadness on his face. Shaking her head. He'd gotten into something.

He was high.

* * *

Jedediah and Kevin sat for dinner in a quaint coffee shop near their hotel. Autumn was on its way in. Time to head back to Llanview. Kevin had grown close to the kid, though, and worried about what he was leaving him to – more aloneness, more truancy? But their allotted time was up and his "parents" had threatened him with juvenile court if he didn't get home.

Likewise, Jedediah didn't want Kevin to leave. For the first time he felt like he was doing something meaningful. Kevin acted like he really respected Jed. Treated him like an equal, not like a kid at all. And they'd made real headway into learning the mystery of his mother's death. _Fantastic_. But now it had to end. A wrenches in his spokes.

Shit wasn't over yet, though. The eldest daughter of Wilma Plankett, one of the dead witnesses, finally agreed to meet with Jedediah and Kevin. _Fantastic_.

Chewing on a French fry, Jedediah said, "I'm not sure I've really said how much I appreciated this whole thing you've done. You know, looking into the stuff about my mom, telling me about . . . you know, Todd Manning and stuff. Meant a lot."

Kevin smiled, reaching across the table with a pretend punch, "It's all right, buddy. You're welcome - just don't get too hung up on the Todd thing, you know? We aren't sure he's the guy." Kevin's words rang false to both of them, but each allowed the disclaimer.

Jedediah sucked on the straw of his coke. "I grew up in a place where people hid the truth from me. I appreciated you just laying it out there. I mean it." He looked down shyly, "Not a lot of people have done that for me."

Kevin knew how much this all meant to him, but didn't want to embarrass Jedediah with too much emotion … so he said, "Don't call me though when you find out your dad is really Chip Johnson, insurance salesman from Arkansas."

Quiet chuckles came from both men, relieving the tension. Kevin reached over and ruffled Jed's hair. "You're all right, kid," he said. "Any man would be proud to have you for a son."

They drank their drinks, worked on their burgers and talked about Jed's favorite kind of movies: horror movies. The older the better. After a while, Jed asked in an off-the-cuff way, "So what can I do ... uh ... to really see if Todd's my dad? What now? Like… now." He raised his piercing hazel eyes to Kevin. He meant business. Pussyfooting on the issue was over, especially now that Jed made sure to tell Kevin how important honesty and truth were. Manipulative bastard, Kevin thought to himself. Didn't need a goddamn DNA test to be sure about who his father was.

"A blood test," Kevin answered, "genetic testing. You'll have to wait for Todd to get on his feet, though. What kind of blood type do you have, anyway? Do you know?"

"Yeah, type O negative." He picked up a fry, dipped it into the ketchup and ate it. "When do you think he'll be on his feet?"

Dragging his coke closer to him, Kevin took some sips. Jed's blood type matched Todd's perfectly. There wasn't any question left. Jed was positively, incontrovertibly, Todd's son.

Letting his gaze linger on the kid a bit longer, he answered, "I'm not sure when he'll be well enough. I'll keep your blood type in mind though. Tell the doctors. I'll see what type Todd has - maybe it'll mean something."

The waitress walked up to their table and asked if they wanted anything else. They both shook their heads, no, and then Kevin noticed a young lady at the door of the cafe, looking around nervously. She fit the description of Hannah Plankett, their last hope to an accurate witness's description of Michelle's jump. He stood up and walked over to her.

"Miss Plankett?"

"Yeah, Mr. Buchanan?"

"Call me Kevin. Thanks for coming."

Hannah had long red hair which she wore in a thick braid that ran down her back. She wore a polka-dot print, country-style dress reaching down to her ankles and delicate suede boots, laced, all under a black wool coat. She was very fair-skinned, looking to be in her forties. Deep lines creased her forehead giving her a permanent look of worry. She took one last glance at the street before following Kevin to his table.

"You took quite a trip from up in those hills, Hannah. Again, can't tell you how glad we are you agreed to come." Hannah slipped into the booth next to Jedediah who immediately introduced himself. They shook hands.

Kevin jumped right into the purpose of the meeting.

"Your mom gave a witness statement concerning Michelle Chant, a young lady who jumped into the river about eight years ago. We want to talk to you about it. And sorry to hear about her passing."

Hannah kept looking toward the door of the cafe.

"Thank you. A car accident. She was run off the road and we never found who did it."

"That's rough."

"Mr. Buchanan, I came here to tell you, to beg you, to quit asking about Michelle Chant and my mother's statement. Let sleeping dogs lie, please."

Kevin and Jedediah were stunned … Jedediah got impatient, his youth revealing itself.

"What are you talking about? I'm not gonna let 'sleeping dogs lie'! We're talking about _my _mother! I want to know what happened to her!"

Hannah's eyes went down immediately to her lap. She did not see Kevin's reproaching look at Jedediah, but she did hear his admonition.

"I'll handle it, Jed." He turned back to Hannah.

"Look, this is a highly emotional issue for us. I'm not going to spread your name across Kingdom Come - I'll hide your identity."

Hannah continued with her silence.

"Is there someone following you? Is that why you're afraid to say something?"

She looked up finally, "Listen, it's dangerous what you're doing. They've been watching you ever since you were at the police station."

"Who?"

"Everybody, nobody. My mother was a witness… and so was I. But we were told never to say what happened and if I say something now, I could end up dead. Just like my mother. You need to drop this and move on."

She started to get up, but Kevin grabbed her by the wrist. Hannah gasped, "Let go of me!"

"Not until you tell us what you saw!"

"NO!" She pulled her arm away and ran out of the restaurant. Kevin glanced over at Jedediah and yelled to him as he made a quick decision to chase Hannah.

"Stay here!"

Jedediah, being the "rebellious soul," didn't stay put and hopped up to follow Kevin right out of the cafe. He saw him turn the corner into an alley and ran to the end of it. He stood there as he saw Kevin stop Hannah by once again grabbing her arm.

"Please, don't do this to us. Tell us what you saw - I'm begging you, here, for the sake of the kid … please." Hannah jerked her hand away and ran like hell. Kevin didn't chase her this time. He turned and was met with the devastated eyes of Jedediah.

"You let her go?! YOU LET HER GO?!"

"Jed, stop it! We'll get the information! You'll see!"

Just as Kevin said those words, Jedediah and Kevin were jumped by two large masked men and wrestled to the ground. The one who had Kevin warned him, "Let it go, reporter, let it go. Otherwise, it might be you that lands in the river." With that last word, he punched Kevin with a closed fist, knocking him unconscious.

The other left Jedediah, knowing the boy would immediately go to his mentor rather than attempt to take them on. And of course, he was correct.

* * *

Tim stood at the window to Todd's room, watching him alternate from lying on the bed, to sitting on the chair, to walking around, to animatedly ranting. He'd had a bad day. Early in the morning, he had a severe flashback and later, kept insisting there hadn't been any trauma… then shifted gears. Said sure, something happened, but he'd wanted it to occur, he liked it, that this thing had transformed into something worse than what it really was. He liked it and he wanted it, he kept saying. He even asked for it. Shifted gears again to saying nothing happening at all and begged for something to make it all go away.

_Does this have anything to do with your father, Peter Manning?_

Tim got silence to that question, his patient's eyes glazing over, his whole body in freeze frame. Lost a lot of minutes in empty space. Bingo. Peter…. was Peter Manning.

Flipping through the daily report, Tim reread the swing-shift nurse's observations of his strange behavior.

His respiration and pulse had been high and since about 7:30 or so, he had begun to show signs of returning to his earlier delusional state. This was a stark contrast to the depression he'd been in only hours before. The nurses, with some struggle, did manage to draw blood for an immediate drug test. Tanya said he seemed drugged. She said he wouldn't sleep, eat or drink. He was completely wired. He moved back and forth between being intensely jocular to pissed-off as all get-out. The report said he demanded to walk the hallways and consultation room, getting very hostile to those who didn't allow him to leave his room. Todd then became aggressive and anxious, going into major attack mode. Only the orderlies with the most serious constitutions took him on, Michael being one of them. They managed to restrain him … get him under control. They couldn't administer any meds at that point because of the suspicious nature of his behavior.

And he'd been this way for almost five hours.

The doctor left and headed to the nurse's station, immediately asking questions about Todd. After hearing denials and uncertainty, he took on an even more threatening appearance - his hefty size, his flashing blue eyes, were intimidating. He stood in front of the lead nurse. "Tell me something that's not in this file."

"Everything is there, doctor," the nurse insisted. She was the sacrificial lamb - she knew she was in serious trouble.

"Did he have any visitors today?"

"Visitors? He's not permitted visitors."

"That's right. So tell me something … that's not in the file."

The recently appointed lead nurse cleared her throat and checked the visitor's log, running her fingers down the pages as calmly as she possibly could. She stopped cold. Glanced up at Tim … glanced at the other nurses who shook their heads …

"Yes," she said softly. "A male visitor at 3:45 p.m. named Paulie Smith who indicated he was Mr. Manning's personal assistant and that it was an emergency regarding his business, the Sun Newspaper. He left at 4:00 p.m."

She stood as straight as she could and looked at her boss. "I'm so sorry…"

"Damn," Tim groaned, rubbing his face in aggravation, maintaining his cool at the breach of procedure.

Just at that moment, a lab technician wearing a matter-of-fact smile and wire-rimmed glasses strolled up to the nurse's station and handed a sheet of paper to the doctor, "Your boy's hot, doc. Tested positive for crank."

Tim took a deep breath, shaking his head, and with an angry grunt threw a stack of papers he was carrying in his hand, making everyone jump. The papers hit the wall and scattered across the floor. The nurses stiffened, one of them scrambling to gather the paperwork. The lab technician snuck away, not wanting to be at the receiving end of Dr. Graham's further outrage.

Calming himself, regaining his professionalism, Tim turned back to the station and grabbed Todd's file off the counter. Shook it and said, "NO GODDAMN VISITORS UNLESS I APPROVE IT!"

The nurse nodded.

"I want a full report. I want to know exactly how that drug pusher got in here and how he was able to give my patient methamphetamine right under your noses. If that young man had died from ingesting illegal drugs, it would have been on your conscience."

Tim stalked back to his office and slammed the door shut. After doing breathing exercises to temper his anger, he picked up the lone picture on his desk of his friend … Jonathan, a special friend who was no longer here, no longer on this earth. Tim touched the smiling face in the photograph and couldn't help but smile back at it.

"I know," he said, "I shouldn't get so involved. Too late, kiddo."

* * *

Kevin blinked away the darkness that had just been surrounding him. He found himself staring into the big eyes of a very concerned Jedediah.

"Are you ok?"

"Yeah, yeah, I have the worst headache."

Kevin lifted himself onto his elbows, what happened coming back to him in bits and pieces. "Who the hell were those guys?" he asked.

Relief flowed over Jedediah, his face seeming to regain color. He answered, "I don't know, but they were pretty serious about you."

"Excuse me, I think you're in this, too." Kevin ran a hand over his face and head and looked around the hospital. Blood and water and Todd washed across his mind. He shook it away. "What time is it?"

"Eleven. The doctor said we had to wait for you to come around. You might have a concussion."

"Great."

A young male doctor wearing a red turban walked into the room, commenting, "So I hear you had a bit of a roughing-up?"

"Yeah, cornered by a couple of goons. When can I get outta here, doc?"

"Not quite yet. We need to run a CAT-scan just to be sure things are good. It won't take long." The doctor looked into Kevin's eyes with his penlight and read the file for vital signs. He asked Kevin some general health questions and then he left.

"We going to try to get Hannah back? She knows about my mom. I can't let this go."

"I know, Jed. Listen, I know where she lives but we need to lie low for a while, okay? Just wait for the heat to die down. I'll be back, I promise. On my life, I will not let this go."

Kevin looked hard at Jedediah, hating to let this boy down. He looked at those hazel eyes and he saw a rare courage there. But he knew it was borne from the loss of Michelle, from his upbringing in a loveless home. Kevin's mind drifted back to Todd, wondering if he'd ever meet his son?

Jedediah smiled sadly at Kevin and sat on a chair next to Kevin's bed.

"Alright, guess there's nothing to do right now except wait. Been waiting a long time already … no harm in a little more waiting."

**To be continued….**


	8. Chapter 8

**On the Edge of Wakefulness**

**Chapter 8**

Todd dragged himself away from Satan, pulling himself to his feet, and yelled, "No! Don't touch me! Stay away from me!

Peter laughed, his monstrous black body shaking, insects and worms falling off him with every tremor. "How dare you challenge ME, you worthless shit. I'll do whatever it is I _want._"

_Don't listen to him._

Todd closed his eyes, briefly, hearing the echo of love. Said, "I'm not worthless."

Satan stood, breathing loudly, steam wafting off of him. "Remember Cindy, the cheerleader? Ahh, that was a glorious day for us. Maybe not so worthless..."

Suddenly, debilitating pain hit Todd and he fell to his knees. He moaned, laying a hand across his abdomen, the other holding himself up.

Peter chuckled. "Wasn't she your first? Your training ground?"

_Don't listen, Angel._

"Remember kissing her? How she laughed at you? How you held her down when she didn't want you anymore? Can you taste the blood on your lips from where she bit you? Can you hear her cries when you forced yourself into her?"

Todd remembered everything, just as Peter said. The rage, the taste of blood, the effort at getting inside of her, the sickeningly-sweet orgasm. But more than that - he knew what _Cindy_ hadfelt_._ He knew and raped her anyway. He groaned in pain, tears forced out.

_He taught you that, he mixed you up. You have already paid. Don't make yourself pay more._

"And what about Laura? Cheerleader, senior year, high school."

Satan's face came close to Todd, breathing on him, hot and wet on his face. Todd pulled his knees up to his chest, blood rolling down his cheeks, bloody tears from the searing pain wracking his body.

_Why am I not being saved? Why am I still here?_

"Remember the back of OUR car? Her muffled screams as you held your hand over her mouth? Remember tearing her panties and really giving it to her. Not so worthless… come to think of it."

Todd was fading, dying, becoming a part of the Hell surrounding him. The volcanic rock beneath him softened, dust and ash getting into his mouth, as he felt himself being pulled down. But he grabbed the harder rock in front of him, digging nails into it, holding on for his life, whatever was left of it.

_I'm here. You will not die._

A new kind of resolve came over him. He couldn't let Satan win. He had to defeat him with or without _her_.

* * *

In order to better monitor Todd's recovery from his bout with methamphetamine and be available in the event of an emergency, Tim stayed in the Doctor's Lounge. Woke up near dawn, cramped from the small cot and a splitting headache from his earlier temper tantrum at the nurses. Decided to check on his patient.

He couldn't get over Todd orchestrating a drop-off of drugs in the hospital, in his current condition. Had to sneak access to a phone, remember a number. Had to stealthily make a hand-off and stealthily take the stuff in his room. All in the throes of intense illness. All under the close watch of staff. Impressive. A real mark of his strength, intelligence. Determination. But just as determination could work for him, it was also his downfall.

Tim walked down the familiar hallway and glanced into his room.

Todd sat in the corner on the floor, near the window, his head against the wall. His hair was a mess, knees drawn up close to him, arms awkwardly resting in his lap with his hands curled against his chest. Positively worn to nothing. No socks. Same clothes as yesterday. Looked to be dozing.

Tim opened the door and stepped inside. Grabbed a seat and sat nearby for a while. Read his notes. Looked up when he heard a soft moan. Todd leaned over and began to retch into a container next to him. After he was done, there not really being too much to regurgitate, Todd went back to his sitting position and began to rhythmically knock his head against the wall.

Tim got to his level, lightly touched Todd's head which provided just enough distraction to stop the movements.

"It didn't help you, did it? The voices are still there, the memories still coming. I'm so sorry. I wish there was an easier way to get through this."

Todd's eyes filled with tears and he whispered to his healer as he looked into his eyes, "Please make him go away, please make him stop. He just won't stop."

"You have to talk to me about the images you see, the things you feel. The faster you share what happened, the faster it will go away."

Tim gazed at Todd, an eagle shot down in flight, his wings and heart broken, and he vowed to see him through this.

"I can't talk about it..."

"Why can't you tell me what you see?"

"The words stop. They try to get out and then they stop. I can't say them." His face twitched, muscles twitched.

"Maybe we can try painting or writing the words? Hypnosis is a good way to look at the memory the way we've been talking about. You know, the distancing concept."

"I don't know…"

"You've been doing well with your meditation. You're not self-harming as much. You're learning to relax yourself through those anxiety attacks. That's so great. I'm proud of you."

Tim noticed Todd bristle at his last words. "That's not possible. You can't be proud of me. I'm nothing – less than nothing."

"Of course you're someone to be proud of. You're a strong man, Todd Manning. You're in so much pain and yet you've been fighting that desire to hurt yourself. The anxiety you feel is intense and yet I see you're using tools I've given you. And I'll be honest, how you got your supplier here was quite the feat, kiddo. For all that I _am_ proud and _can_ be proud. I'm hopeful."

Todd dropped his head and tears slowly fell down his cheeks. "But you don't know me. My father knew me and he hated me...I can still hear him. Why is he still here?"

_Peter._

"Your father… Peter Manning?"

Todd raised his eyes to Tim, slowly, the deep sadness there breaking Tim's heart.

"He hated me."

"Was he a cruel man, Todd?"

A slow nod.

"Well, then it doesn't surprise me that you can only hear his voice. Cruelty is loud and deafening and that's why it draws you in. Kindness, goodness and love, are gentle, so soft that you can't hear them."

"I can't hear them at all - they're not there."

"Oh yes they are. Think of people who love you, think of people you love. Can you remember what that feels like, what it sounds like?"

Todd thought a while, and then said, "Starr laughing …."

"That's right. I bet you remember a lot of things about her loving you and you loving her. Love has a lot of sounds. But sometimes you have to work to hear it."

Todd put his head down, wiping tears roughly with the back of his hand.

"I also imagine that because of the love you know with Starr, you would do anything for her."

He shrugged.

"Well, I am going to ask you to use the same resources you used in getting drugs into your room, to help yourself for the love you feel for Starr. Tell me your secrets. Empower yourself by telling those secrets. That cruel dark voice you hear will weaken. The other voices will be become louder. I promise. You will get better."

Todd closed his eyes, searching inside of himself, wondering whether he would ever have the strength to tell. Drugs were easy… this was an entirely different battle.

_Angel, I'm here. Trust him._

* * *

Jedediah bid his goodbyes to Kevin at the airport, Kevin chastising him on going home and buckling down on his schoolwork. The kid agreed unhesitatingly that, of course, he would do the right thing... Kevin looked at him and narrowed his eyes. He wanted to follow him home, but Jedediah refused, saying he had already taken Kevin away from his family for too long.

Against his better judgment, he finally relented. "Jed, tell me you're riding straight home and that you will not go chasing after Hannah yourself. That's dangerous territory. Those people didn't want us nosing around and we have to cool it, for our safety, for now." As Kevin spoke, he held Jedediah by the shoulders.

Jed sighed, frustrated, gazing in another direction. "I know. I promise, I'm going straight home."

"Call me tonight. If you don't call, I'll call your parents and spill the beans on where you've been. They won't ever let you out of the house again and you'll become a ward of the court. You don't want that, yeah?"

"I'll call you," he said, "Promise."

Jed stuck his hand out to shake but Kevin pulled him into a tight hug, whispering, "Stay safe, kid."

Breaking the affection, Kevin turned to walk through the metal detector so he could board his plane. Just past the monitor, he turned back to look one last time and he saw that Jedediah had already left.

* * *

Jedediah kick-started his motorcycle and slipped on his helmet. He looked at the traffic and slowly merged into it, riding away from the airport. The sign said north, and he took that road.

"Llanview, Pennsylvania, here I come."

* * *

Viki arrived at Llanview Psychiatric Hospital with vengeance in her stride having been told about what happened to Todd. She swore to Tim that she would see to it that whoever was responsible for allowing the unauthorized visitor would be reprimanded and disciplined. In the meantime, Todd had been transferred to a new room in order for his old one to be searched to remove any hidden drugs.

He remained deeply depressed, not wanting to do anything other than lie in bed and stare at nothing, think on nothing, _be_ nothing. As various attendants shuffled in and out of his room, he slipped into a quiet place inside of himself, like before. Whispered words. He'd repetitively smooth his hair, trying to imagine affection, wondering if it could happen without pain. Doubting it.

The meth had disappointed him – all he got for his trouble was Tim preaching and an increased sense of isolation and fish-bowl observation. He knew what he had to do to get better, but the words to describe the nightmare were bigger than Everest to him, an impossible climb. He did hear another voice though, a strange loving voice urging him on, promising salvation if he would say the words. Where would the strength come from though? Hours rolled by, it seemed, nothing getting accomplished in that quiet, empty space.

When he stopped drifting, he found himself looking at Viki. He took her hand into his, cradled it flat against his chest.

"Tell me about Starr," he said quietly.

She felt so sad at his asking. It had been months since he had seen her.

"She's fine. She misses you though and asks about you every day. Blair has been wonderful and is always sure to tell Starr about you, to assure her that you're alright and that you love and miss her, too. She doesn't hide you from Starr and doesn't say anything against you."

"Tell me what she's...been wearing, her hair, her shoes..." He opened his eyes, taking a peek at the windows.

Swallowing down her sorrow, Viki painted a picture. "She's taken to wearing her hair in pigtails. Her hair's grown longer and it's the prettiest, silkiest brown hair you've ever seen. She still loves to dress up but she's been quite the tomboy lately and has been coming home after play dates, filthy, shoes full of sand from the playground. She's reading so well in school, her teachers love her. What else..."

Viki could see a trace of a smile at hearing the description of his beautiful Starr. It disappeared though, and then he asked something else, his voice still faint.

"Tell me about...Tea."

Viki swallowed hard. This was the first time he had mentioned her since she left, since she disappeared immediately after the trial. All Viki knew was that Tea had been devastated by something involving Todd prior to his arrest. Tea never told and Viki didn't ask. Whatever forced her to leave must have been serious.

"I don't know anything. She hasn't contacted anybody – or if she has, they haven't mentioned anything to me."

"She left because of what I did to her."

"I'm sure there were many reasons for her leaving."

Todd whispered the truth to his sister. "I hit her. I stole her and I hit her. She won't ever come back."

Viki wanted to ask more, but didn't. Stunned, and yet not.

"Don't think about that now. When you get better, we can deal with that. Together."

"I can't live like this."

"I know it's hard."

"I'm gonna go away."

She wasn't sure what he meant, hoped it wasn't more suicidal ideation. "Please stay with me," she said. "I was there once, something like you, and I can promise that you will get through it, you will get better. There's light at the end of the tunnel."

"Listen, if you try to do what Tim asks, if you reach down into the deepest part of your heart and soul to try to pick yourself up, I'll bring Starr to see you. Even if I have to have Blair shipped away to do it. What do you think, you think you can do that?"

"I don't know…" He seemed to think about it, then said, "No, I don't want Starr to see me...I'm...I'm afraid I'll hurt her, too."

"Of course you wouldn't. You've never laid a hand on her, or hardly said a harsh word to her. Why do you think you would hurt her?"

"Satan told me – said I would do to her all the bad things that were done to me. I think he's right, I think...he's right. Don't let her come...don't… God, please… keep her away from me."

Viki froze. She'd not actually heard this thinking come from Todd before, not in person. It's always disconcerting, frightening even, to be moving along in a relatively normal conversation and be suddenly confronted with the reality of mental illness. She bent and kissed his cool forehead, buying herself time to answer, surprised he'd accepted the affectionate act so peacefully. She couldn't help herself.

"This...Satan… is wrong – that's your own fear talking. You would never hurt Starr. Never!"

"I hit Tea. Punched her out cold. Could do it to Starr."

Viki glanced away a moment, not wanting him to see the shock on her face. When she regained control, she said, "I don't know what happened with Tea – I can't judge that because I wasn't there, but I can say what I know of YOU. And from what I know, your Satan is wrong, sweetheart." Viki leaned down and took a bigger risk of love - she wrapped her arms around him, pressed her face against his and held on. "He's wrong, so wrong..."

He did not feel physically able to stop her, but he no longer wanted to.

_Keep me close to the real world, sister, tie me down to the earth below my feet and body. Don't let me fall into Hell or float into nothingness._

She held him for a few moments. Suddenly, he worked himself out of the hug and grabbed Viki's arm, squeezed it hard. He whispered thickly, "I have to tell, don't I?"

"Yes," she said, her voice breaking, "yes, you have to. It's the only way to be free of it."

He loosened his grip, gazing at nothing, gazing into the distance. He nodded his head and whispered, "Yeah, ok, ok...free.

* * *

It had been just a few days since the methamphetamine incident and Todd had improved somewhat. Viki shared Todd's asking if he had to tell his secrets – Tim was elated. The statement was a pivotal opening so Tim doubled his efforts at getting Todd to communicate.

Firstly, he gave Todd a journal. His right hand was still pretty unusable, but Todd was able to pen with his left hand surprisingly well. The main focus for him was Starr – wrote her name, often surrounded by words like "protect", "shield", "cover", "inside", "safe" and "beautiful", among others. He drew pictures of a faceless, featureless shadow, portraying it always alone and never associating words with it. It usually showed up after time spent on the Starr reflections.

Tim couldn't get Todd to explain what he was drawing. He'd simply bury himself in the perfection of presentation, expanding the shadow, fading out the edges with the eraser – he'd recite the worst things Satan said about him, recite them with the seriousness of Scripture. He'd lose himself there, withdrawing, humming in that way of his, believing Satan.

Secondly, Tim encouraged Todd's relationship with Viki. She visited every day. Sometimes he spoke to her, other times he merely listened. They would either sit in his room or in the consultation room. He never rejected her visits, or her attention.

This morning, though, was a different story – Todd had slipped into a severe depression following a night of physically intrusive nightmares. It had been quite an effort to get him to do anything other than lie in bed. Martin, one of the orderlies on duty, said he was disconnected from his surroundings, "spacey".

Something was going on.

Tim arrived near eleven in the morning and walked into the consultation room to check on Todd. His heart sank at seeing his patient sitting on the floor in a corner, barefoot, wearing nothing but pajama bottoms and a tee-shirt, staring vacantly out the window at the cool sun shining through.

Approaching him carefully, Tim kneeled down and said, "Hey kiddo, what's up? How are you?"

Todd sat quietly, not answering until Tim gently touched his shoulder. He then slowly turned and looked at Tim, a perplexed expression on his face.

"I keep being pulled into a dream, I think. Things feel ... _funny_ … around me." He spoke lazily, softly.

"Might be your new medication."

"No, it's Satan – keeps talking to me, distracting me away from here. I can hear him – he's so noisy. I feel him… in my veins, in my head. Hurts."

Tim briefly glanced downward, disappointed at what looked like a return to a more deluded state. One step forward, two back. "Todd, is Satan the same as your father, Peter? Does he look like him, sound like him?"

Todd looked at Tim with sudden fear in his eyes, his voice increasing in strength and anxiousness.

"Don't make me talk about him, don't make me!"

Todd drew in his knees close to his chest and put his hands over his ears, shaking his head wildly, begging Tim, "No, no, no…"

_You have to tell, you have to tell._

"No, I don't want to tell!"

_You have to, my love. It's time. Trust the healer._

Todd began rocking slightly, humming again. The blinking of his eyes gave away the fact that his self-soothing wasn't working very well.

_Is this place real? The floor beneath me, the windows, the people? Is anything real?_

He had definitely deteriorated once again. "Ok, ok... we don't have to talk about it. It's ok." Todd calmed after a moment and Tim moved to the wall to sit next to Todd in a similar position - knees drawn up, arms holding his knees, more casual, though, more relaxed than his patient.

"Someone called asking about you."

_Who could possibly care about me? Who could possibly want to know if I'm dead or alive? Which one am I? Dead … or alive?_

Todd closed his eyes momentarily and then looked at Tim, a quizzical expression on his face.

_You need to tell._

"Kevin Buchanan. He was very concerned about you and wanted to make sure you were alright, that you were getting better."

Tim knew that Todd had spoken to Kevin right before the suicide attempt, an indicator of a close but complicated relationship. The mere mention of the name sent Todd into a fit of uncontrollable shivering, but he continued to look at Tim, questioningly. The reaction was curious, calling for more pushing on the issue.

"Do you remember talking to him before ... before you cut yourself?"

The stare didn't let up. Worry pinched the corners of eyes. The shivering intensified and Todd leaned back against the wall. Closed his eyes. "Kevin, _Kevvie_ - yeah, yeah, I remember ..."

_It is alright to tell, Angel._

"Did you call Kevin?"

"On the phone, asking him ... asking ... ohhhh... Kevin, I'm sorry ... about the Penthouse ... Michelle … paperwork on my desk …"

So he did remember. He sounded far away and Tim could tell he was spitting out images he was seeing. Tim figured a flashback was coming on.

"Water, cutting . . . find me . . . find me."

_Tell._

"Todd, remember you're in the consultation room and that I'm right next to you."

He looked at his arms, his faced becoming lined with a kind of horror, "Ohhh ... I'm so sorry … God help me, it's the only way." His body weakened and he rolled his head against the wall. "Shouldn't have saved me, should have waited … I have to finish … I have to show him."

"Why shouldn't Kevin have saved you?"

Todd started to cry, shaking his head, "I'm not save-able. I'm nothing."

"Why aren't you save-able?"

Clenching his jaws, Todd spat out angry words, "Because, _Daddy_ tells me I'm shit, that I'm not worth anything ... that I'm nothing ... that I'm not even any good for the one thing ..." Todd began to get antsy, shifting positions. "One thing, one thing…"

Things changed quickly. He suddenly started pulling at his clothes to cover himself, pushing up against the wall, trying to protect himself. His hands shot out in front of him to stop an attacker as he slid onto his back on the floor, writhing in absolute terror.

"Whoa!" Tim jumped back, watching, waiting for the moment Todd would need more invasive help.

"Nooo! Please, no! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to bring her here! Sorry, sorry…so sorry…no, please, no…send her home, please…"

"Todd, it's only a memory! Look at me! You're in the hospital, you're in Llanview!"

Nothing was working. He twisted his body onto his stomach, trying to crawl from Tim, gasping, trying to scream, but not being able to. He kept turning his head as if someone was standing behind him, threatening him, advancing toward him. His eyes were wide open, his bare feet rubbing against the carpet.

"Oh God ... oh God … no, no, no, no, no…" His voice was ragged and his breathing was hard and fast, the depth of the panic almost awe-inspiring.

Tim knew no talking to his patient would get him to come out of this physical memory, so he called out, "Martin! Sedative - NOW!" The orderly ran out and Tim kept his eyes on Todd, there not being much he could do at this point. He offered a few words, knowing they weren't getting through, but hoping the mere sound of his voice would offer something.

"Come on, kiddo, come on. Separate yourself…come on…you're completely safe..." He shook his head, looking up for the nurse.

"Help me ... help me ... please, stop, please … oh god, oh god … I'm sorry!" He dug his fingernails into the carpet, his forehead down, and then picked up the scrambling, but it appeared unseen hands had a hold of him. He turned his head one last time, his expression one of intense apology, his lips mouthing a soundless, "I'm sorry."

"I'm right here, I'm right here… it's just a memory, kiddo… just your memory."

Todd kept inching away, struggling on the floor, his face showing the nightmare he was in. It was so real, it tore Tim up. Everyone jumped when he suddenly screamed loudly and painfully. Then, he stopped his moving, stopped his breathing, and reached in front of him, his lips parted in a kind of shock, keeping the one hand outstretched, a chance at being saved, a last grasp at safety.

_Tell him, now._

And then three words came out of his mouth, spoken with the breath being forced out of him by an invisible assault. Words that would change the course he was on, that would pluck him out of that raging river he'd thrown himself into.

"He's ... raping ... me ..."

_Oh yes, Angel, oh yes!_

A breathy, strangled moan escaped and then Todd slammed his head hard against the floor, several times, trying to stop the horrific memory engulfing him. Tim immediately grabbed him by his upper body, turned him around, and brought him into his arms to restrain him, to protect him. Tim held his patient, tight, tight, tight.

"It's okay, Todd, you're safe now, I got you, I got you…"

The orderly moved in close to Tim and his patient, and held Todd's legs to prevent him from further thrashing. Todd appeared to be in a seizure, saliva falling from his mouth, his eyes rolling back, his body convulsing, struggling to breathe. Tim knew he wasn't seizing, however. Rather, this was major trauma Todd was reliving – someone had brutally raped him, the violence of the act...beyond obvious.

Tim spoke firmly and assuredly, hoping against hope that his patient would hear him, "You're not there, Todd, you're in the hospital. No one's hurting you now. We're here to help you, protect you…"

The nurse got right next to Todd, lowered his pajama bottoms and injected him into the thick muscle of his thigh.

Despite Tim's words, the meds not quite kicking in yet, Todd continued to seize in terror with wordless, suffocated sounds coming from him, his face twitching, his body whipping violently against the hold of his protectors. His hands tightened into fists, even his unusable right hand, still bound by thick bandaging. And it all broke Tim's heart, making him curse the person who'd done this to a fourteen year old boy, "God damn bastard..."

Finally, Todd started to calm, the seizing growing slower and less injurious. His legs slowly stopped kicking against the orderly. He soon lay without moving, his eyes closed, moaning in an unnatural lethargy urged on by the sedative. He was soaking wet with sweat, his face lined with tears. Tim relaxed but did not let go of his tortured patient.

"Ah, kid," he murmured, "I'm so sorry. I am _so_ sorry that happened to you." He continued to hold Todd in his strong arms, caring for him, rocking him, hoping that maybe this revelation would lead him back to reality. When he looked up, he saw Viki.

She stood in the doorway, tears rolling down her face at the sight of the large man rocking her brother. She took cautious steps toward them, and when the doctor saw her, he said, "I know what happened to him. He trusted us enough to say the words. He was very brave… very strong to do it."

"Oh Tim." Viki knelt down to Todd and held his hand. "I'm here, sweetheart, I'm here. You're safe now."

Todd continued to moan quietly, unable to move or open his eyes. The orderly brought a blanket to prevent shock. The four sat there, waiting, hoping, praying, as the sunlight poured into the room, brightening a dark scene, offering hope where there had been none before. Tim did not let go of his patient.

* * *

Todd once again dragged himself to his feet, the pain subsiding as he faced Satan.

"You bastard! You know what you did! You made me rape those girls! YOU did! And I hate you for that!"

Satan stood and merely growled, Peter's voice dragging, "You sorry little _fuck_. You hate ME? YOU HATE ME? Not as much as I hated you. You took my life from me. You shamed me by being so stupid with that whore, Marty. You humiliated me by landing in prison."

"Those things happened later! What had I done to deserve torture and rape at fourteen?! I was a kid! You tore me apart!"

Todd felt stronger than before, the pain lessening. Satan seemed smaller, and was beginning to look more and more like the old Peter Manning.

But not entirely, not yet.

Satan approached Todd, who backed up but stayed on his feet. He had to stop at the edge of the island, there being no place else to go. Satan grabbed his hair and looked closely at his face. Todd could feel the desperation in Peter's voice as he spoke to him.

"I'm not really the one at fault here. Where was your mother when I raped you all those times before, huh? Where was that bitch when you really needed her? When you were really… _just a kid_. She didn't care about you or love you. She knew what I was doing… and she never helped you. You didn't rape because of ME, you raped women because each one was YOUR MOTHER."

A horrific shock of pain slammed through Todd's body at Peter's cruel last-ditch effort to win. What other rapes? _His mother knew?_ He couldn't breathe in Satan's death hold. Images of his mother leaving him, telling him he had to go back to his father, pounded down on him. He saw her face and felt her arms around him in the warmest of hugs. He remembered her note left behind. He could feel the bitter tears, the ache in his heart he felt, that he still felt.

She knew and yet she sent him back?

Blood ran down his face, down his body, dripping off his hands and feet, pooling beneath him. Satan was draining him, squeezing the life out of him.

Peter Manning's laugh ripped across the vastness of Hell. His words hit Todd hard because it brought out something he never wanted to acknowledge: his mother sent him back to be further tortured by Peter Manning when he was a child, even after he begged and cried and despaired. She knew what Satan was doing to him. The rejection alone had bad enough… but now… Satan said she KNEW.

"NOW, what challenges do you have for me? Do you dare say I cannot do as I please? Give yourself to me. Give yourself over to me!"

Todd grit his teeth as he looked deeply into Peter Manning's cursed black eyes.

"FUCK YOU."

Satan exploded with a fury that was not human and which Todd could not physically overpower. Todd closed his eyes, expecting to feel the terrible pain. Instead, he floated above the gruesome scene, his soul being caressed by someone's silky touch. She whispered in his ear and assured him that the horror below him wasn't real anymore and that the love he had known at one time or another was. He watched in an odd state of calm as he saw the young fourteen year-old child be violently attacked.

Tears rolled down Todd's face as he watched it happen. "I . . . I . . . I don't think he's gonna survive that."

"He'll survive. He will find that he has so much to live for. He will find he has so much to give." Her voice was soft and soothing, like honey in his ear.

"Who are you?"

"I am Love, Salvation and Hope. I am everything you ever wished for. I am your heart and I am your soul. I am light."

"That boy, does he know you're here?"

"Not yet. But he will."

* * *

Hours later, Todd lay in his bed, the room dark except for a small light, just enough. Viki had wanted to be there when he woke up, but Tim couldn't anticipate what his condition would be so he asked her to go home. Reluctantly, she finally did. Todd's eyes fluttered open and he carefully sat up, finding Tim sitting next to him on the wing-back chair, with some papers in his lap. He rubbed his head, a headache bothering him. He found it hard to talk, like he had a sore throat or something. His whole body ached.

"I don't feel good."

"I know. It's normal." Tim wasn't surprised to see Todd in such discomfort. He'd essentially just been violently raped.

Todd shrugged his shoulders, his face taking on a look of disgust, a bit of a whimper in his voice. "I feel dirty and sticky. I...I want a bath or a shower. Can I do that?" His voice dropped to whisper. "I'm very sore ..." He did notice it was quieter in his mind, only a dull thumping voice for now.

"Of course."

He wrapped his arms around himself in a hug of a sort, running his hands up and down as if it were cold. He closed his eyes, his voice still soft. "Can I ... have something ... I hurt ... all over ..."

"Yeah, definitely, let me tell the nurse." Tim hopped up and buzzed the intercom. He spoke softly. He returned to the chair next to Todd's bed. "You remember what happened today?"

He lifted his eyes only and looked cautiously at Tim, afraid. Words escaped today from his disobedient mouth, words that could kill him, that nearly killed him. Perhaps now the doctor would think him a freak, a sick monster that asked for that special torture created just for him.

Tim sensed Todd's… shame. No unusual for rape victims. "I want you to know that you can trust me with anything you say. I don't tell anyone, and I don't think that anything you say is wrong or weird or bad. I respect you. You are safe with me, your words are safe. No matter what you say."

Todd huffed, his face a mask of despair, that same shame. He pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around his knees. He began to rock, comforting himself like a child stuck at age fourteen, broken. Clenching his teeth, an undertone of fury in his voice, he said, "He ruined me, he hurt me." His head dropped forward onto his knees and his eyes were closed. Whispered, "He raped me ..."

"Yes, a horrific experience."

Todd stopped rocking and looked at Tim, darkly, his voice raspy. "But I did that, too. I did that to ... Marty ... and some others." Tim knew the complication that affected his patient in dealing with this. After all, he himself had raped at least two young women. The harder he condemned the perpetrator for his crime against HIM, the harder he condemned himself.

"You did. But what happened to you is most likely a contributing factor to your committing those crimes. Had whoever done that to you, not done it, you most likely wouldn't have raped. It doesn't take away your responsibility for what you did, but it explains to us why you may have raped those women."

Todd spoke heavily, his voice riddled with revulsion. "No, no. I must have liked what happened to me. Otherwise, why would I have done it to someone else? Why would I do something like that?"

"You did not like what happened to you. When I saw you today, you were not enjoying yourself. Why you would cause the same kind of pain to others is very complicated. I can try to explain it to you."

Todd crinkled up his face and shut his eyes.

_Go away. I'm condemned - I told and he's going to kill me._

He started rocking again, moaning softly, and tucking his chin into his chest. Making himself small.

Tim leaned forward. "It's okay, Todd. You don't have to talk about it now – only as much as you want to."

"Yeah, yeah, I don't want to talk about it, don't make me talk about it."

"I'm not making you do anything you don't want to."

He whispered, "He'll kill me. He's probably going to kill me for what's already said."

"Who?"

Exasperated suddenly, Todd shouted, "My father! Don't you know anything? He told me not to tell and I told! Oh God, I told, I told ..."

"Your father's dead. He can't hurt you anymore."

Todd glared at Tim, spat, "He's alive. He's Satan and he lives inside of me. Now in my book, that's not DEAD, is it?!"

"I guess it's a kind of life, yeah."

"Yeah, I'm right, I'm right ..."

"It was your father, then, who raped you."

"Oh God ... oh God ... I asked for it ... I was bad and asked for it. My father knows everything ...all my dirty secrets. He hears everything. Punished me then, punishes me now." Todd was rocking himself again, trying to assuage the fear that had cropped up. Tim crossed his legs, leaning back in the chair, contemplating the enormity of Todd's admission, a terrible truth behind it. Todd's extreme illness told Tim that this rape… was only part of a very long, dark story.

"You think I'm punished enough, Doc?" Todd had interrupted his self-soothing to ask the question.

"Your father hurt you very badly. He had no right to do that to you. You did not in any way ask for that. NOT IN ANY MANNER. You were a child, a fourteen year-old child. No child asks for that."

"But I did! I was with Michelle, we were ... we ..." Only a hard breath came out of his mouth. He rubbed his face, groaning into his hands, "She's dead because of me."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because if she hadn't been with me on that day, she wouldn't have killed herself."

"Don't take responsibility for that. You can take it for the crimes you committed but not for her death. It was ruled a suicide. If that's the case, then it was her own decision."

Todd couldn't understand, couldn't grasp this. It was always his fault. Everything was his fault. He asked for bad things to happen to him and he made bad things happen. Georgie died because he did not get to the lodge soon enough. He didn't recognize her from before. He could have helped her. Todd was the one who made his father hurt him, over and over. He was the one who chased his mother out. He made Tea go away.

Everything - was - his - fault.

Todd closed his eyes tightly and slid back into the bed, covering himself and pulling himself into a ball, protecting himself. Protecting himself from any further attacks, protecting the world from further damage he'd cause.

"You did ok, Todd. I'm proud of you." Tim left him to sleep and comfort his broken heart.

**To Be Continued . . .**


	9. Chapter 9

**On the Edge of Wakefulness**

**Chapter 9**

"He's a funny kid, Cas. Talks tough, like Manning, but... he's truly alone. Kinda makes me sad."

They sat in his Banner office, both at their desks, turned in their seats, facing each other. They talked about Todd and his son. Kevin didn't doubt the paternity of Jedediah, especially after learning his blood type. Cassie had her own news, explaining to Kevin about the bribery scheme. He promised he wasn't involved and warned Cassie to triple-check her sources. These were criminal actions they were talking about, AND his family.

"Have you talked to him?"

"Not exactly. Left a message on my voicemail. Sounded tired, but upbeat."

The two swung back around to their work. Kevin thought about the message from Jed, not trusting the truth of it. Most likely, probably sleeping under the stars. Wished there was something to do for him. Kid didn't seem to want anything. Just had to hope he'd get in touch again. Had to think about how to tell Todd, too. Viki said, ask the doc.

"Georgianna Calhoun, where are you?" Kevin searched the lists of names in Chicago. Searched for marriage licenses as well. Kevin took a bite of an apple and kept hitting the "enter" button the keyboard, haphazardly, his mind unfocused.

Cassie in the meantime, worked on locating more information about Manning Management Corporation. She called the company directly, pretending to be a potential Llanview investor and was answered by a receptionist. She really chatted the girl up, playing dumb, playing the "just us girls" card. It worked.

"Manning Management mostly works through its subsidiary, Wormwood and Associates," the receptionist offered, "Works with… a Mr. Buchanan."

Cassie's heart jumped into her throat. The story of the Mole's was becoming truer. "I know Mr. Buchanan, several of them."

The girl paused, lowered her voice, "Tell them to be careful. Phillip's, um, kinda strange. We call him Lucifer. He's a brutal businessman and he's kind of that way with his personal life as well."

"What do you mean?"

"He had a girlfriend once, this Georgie Phillips? She was really stuck on... Lucifer. Come summer, they have this huge row, here in the office. _He hit her_. I then read she'd been murdered ... in your town as a matter of fact."

"I read about that. Jesus."

"I wouldn't be mentioning it but Mr. Manning's reaction to her death was so… _unexpected._ When he read about it, he laughed. _Loudly._ Like I said, be careful."

They hung up and Cassie turned to Kevin. "You're never gonna believe this," she began, but Kevin stopped her. He had his own discovery to share. It couldn't wait.

"Remember I told you Georgianna Calhoun was Michelle's best friend? According to these records, Georgianna married a Daniel Phillips._ Phillips. _Their marriage lasted about six months."

Cassie's eyes widened, "Oh my god. Georgianna Calhoun is Georgie _Phillips_. Who was also girlfriend to… Phillip Manning."

"Holy hell, Todd must have known her." He stared at the screen, thinking, figuring. Suddenly it struck him. "God, Cassie, you don't think he's involved in this bribery thing, do you?"

"Sam really hopes he isn't."

* * *

"You don't understand, I can't tell you any more!"

Todd paced back and forth in his room, frustrated, haunted. He was in his room, a place he rarely left because here he felt more protected, safer, more in control, as opposed to the consultation room. His eyes kept returning to Tim, as if on alert, waiting for an attack by his own doctor. He had begun to wear extra layers of clothing. Jacket over flannel shirt over tee shirt, multiple layers of socks… if he could have worn two pairs of sweatpants he would have.

"You've told me the hardest part, already," Tim said. "The intensity of the flashbacks has decreased. A great thing. Start at the beginning of that day."

"I can't find the words…," He groaned angrily, running his fingers through his hair and pacing, a ball of anxiety.

"I know, kiddo." Tim let out a heavy sigh at Todd's pain laid out so plainly. Every so often his patient would pull his jacket to him tighter, closer, folding his arms across his chest.

A pattern had begun to emerge since Todd told Tim about the rape. They would initiate their sessions with an attempt to go through the details, to no avail. They then would go over relaxation methods to help Todd better manage his anxiety. He still had flashbacks but none of the type he had on the day he first admitted the rape. He experienced horrific nightmares, though. The worst though: he couldn't stop feeling the physical pain of the experience. He felt beaten, bruised, damaged. Kept asking for painkillers. Tim refused, of course, the pain phantom, there being no biological cause for pain.

The sessions often drifted back to Michelle's death. Tim guessed Todd used her death as a means to express his grief over the loss of himself through the rape. It was easier for him to cry over her as opposed to crying over himself. But it didn't relieve him of the need to grieve directly for what happened to him.

They continued to work with the journal, shadowed figures still there, but now a fan, an airplane. All cryptic, unexplained, repeated. He showed concern for Starr's safety, imagining the same thing would happen to her. His fear though was that HE would be the one to rape or beat her or, worst of all, kill her in a psychotic frenzy.

The two struggled with this fear, Tim explaining it wasn't rational, that he had never done anything even remotely aggressive towards Starr. But it was a tough battle. He tried to explain that Todd was most likely projecting his feelings about himself as a child onto Starr. In other words, Todd was worried about "Todd, the little boy" rather than Starr herself.

Of course, in return for this theory, Tim had to deflect a journal from hitting him. Todd couldn't handle even the slightest comparison. She was not him.

"Don't do that to her," he'd cried out. "Don't!"

Today, Tim sat with Todd, assuring him, comforting him, _reassuring_ him that he would get through this. Despite the agony, he was expressing feelings about the rape itself, as opposed to the loss of Michelle. Progress.

"But it won't let me go . . . it's like a bulldog that bites down and just stays there, clamped on me!" He moaned, exhausted, traumatized. "Why won't it stop?!" Not knowing what to do with his intense pain, he walked to the corner of the room, turned, and slid down to the floor, knees up, head in his hands.

"Because you haven't forgiven yourself for what you think you did to deserve that rape. You haven't forgiven yourself for the rapes you committed."

"Forgive myself? How can I? How can I possibly do that? Oh God ... I'm gonna be sick, oh God ... "

With that, Todd jumped up and sprinted to the bathroom, where he dropped to his knees and threw up. He then slipped to the floor and lay there. Pulled up his knees, hands up by his head, cheek against the cool tiles. Face hidden beneath a mess of hair. He gazed across the floor, focusing on a crumpled tissue paper next to the tub.

Tim stood at the door. "We can stop. I think you've had enough punishment for today."

Feeling weak and hopeless, Todd rasped, "You would know about that, wouldn't you? That's your job. Punishing me."

Tim laughed lightly. "No, no. Looks like it's yours, though. I'm working to help you get better."

"I'm gonna die here ... "

"Well, maybe. Hard to get food or water in that position. Come on. Let me help you up." The doctor moved to him, offering his hand.

Todd shook his head, "No ... don't touch me. Please, please, please don't touch me." He whimpered, the fear running deep. "I can't let you touch me."

Tim had noticed a severe setback in Todd's ability to let people near him, other than Viki. The admission of the rape essentially threw him back emotionally to a state of mind similar to that of a new rape victim. He was terrified of anyone coming close to him, touching him, even looking at him.

"Are you afraid I'll hurt you?"

He nodded, tightening into himself.

Tim squatted, saying in the gentlest voice he could muster, "Todd, I will NEVER touch you in a way you don't want. I will NEVER, EVER hurt you physically. I will not hit you, grab you, pull you or slap you. I will not abuse you, not sexually or otherwise. I will hold you only if you need to be made safe from yourself, but I will not injure you in doing so. Do you understand? Can you hear me on this?"

Tim's assurances, although obvious to a healthy person, were too kind for Todd and he cried at the promises, covering his eyes with his hand. He was not used to hearing these words from a male person as he only knew violence, hatred and rejection at the hands of men. Even his revered Sam Rappaport in the form of a blind eye. The pledges moved him deeply, just as they did the first time he heard similar words from Tim.

After a moment, Todd peered at his doctor with the immeasurable hurt of a broken child. Deciding to take a chance, he finally moved. Tim very gently and slowly put an arm under Todd's to get him to his feet. Todd stiffened at the touch but didn't reject the help.

They shuffled across the floor, Todd feeling wounded, his head dropping forward. Tim never let him go, leading him to his bed where he fell heavily, exhausted.

"Rest easy, buddy."

Todd wondered, as he drifted off, which nightmare awaited him. Which level of Hell would he be in tonight?

* * *

Todd walked alone on a dirt road, stumbling from fatigue. The sound of a coursing river soon distracted him and he looked to his left, realizing he stood on the edge of a tall, jagged cliff, deadly rocks far below in the current. He startled and jumped away, gripped by fear. A spirit alighted in front of him and said, "Do not be afraid. The river is a place of rebirth. The souls drift downwards and float along the river to their new destinations."

"Did I win? Is it over?"

"No, there are still things you need to learn. But, you did win a battle with Satan. You did not give yourself to him."

"But I watched him do that ... thing."

"You were not there. He only had a body, not your soul."

Todd didn't understand. "The boy, is he dead?" He couldn't separate the body from the soul.

"No, he is still very much alive." She smiled at him. He felt shy in her presence and looked down.

"Is this Heaven? Can I see my mother?"

"No, but she sees you. She loves you so much."

Todd got angry, lifting his eyes to the gentle spirit. "She left me. She shouldn't have done that. That's not love."

The spirit caressed his soul to soothe him, and in response, he felt sleepy, dreamy, his eyes closing and the anger numbed for the time being. As he was being lulled by the spirit's magic, he became aware of the screams of the condemned and the tortured and he jerked his eyes open. His heart pounded, consumed by a need to run, to hide. He looked for an escape route, finding nothing.

"If I'm not in Heaven, where am I then?"

"A corridor out of Hell. You have just begun your climb."

* * *

Jedediah had no problem landing a job as a night janitor at Llanview Psychiatric Hospital. Got a bed at the local men's shelter. His supervisor appreciated his willingness to work hard without asking for much. He didn't push the fact that "Jed Lawrence" had no social security card and said he would wait for a copy. The kid suggested under-the-table pay. "Less paperwork, yeah?" The guy said… only until the card comes through.

First job: bathroom duty. He would have access to all areas of the hospital.

Fuckin' brilliant.

Jedediah had worked several nights with no luck. He kept his eyes open on each floor he worked and saw no one, heard nothing that would get him closer to finding Todd. He had not, however, checked the patient list on the hospital computer and that was his main objective tonight.

Near two a.m., Jedediah finished up with the second floor bathrooms. This floor was the drug rehabilitation section and pretty much operated during regular hours. The patients slept at night and worked through their problems during the day. Jedediah walked the floor and spotted an empty office with the lights on and computer running. The night-shift orderly had taken off for a moment so Jedediah decided to chance a sneak-peek.

He didn't have any problem getting into the patient list and slowly went through it, scanning an alphabetical listing of names. His heart sank when he didn't find Todd's name. Then he noticed a separate menu for the lock-down ward. Clicked on the list. Scrolled through. His heart skipped. There it was. "Manning, T. Todd, Lock-Down, # 5 (under court order - violation of probation), Timothy Graham, M.D."

Violation of probation? A shock ran through him, but before he had time to digest the information, Jedediah heard the elevator doors. He quickly moved out of the office and into the safety of the hallway. His heart was beating so fast and so loud he was sure everyone could hear it. Licking his dry lips, he took deep breaths to settle his jittery nerves.

He found him, he thought. He found Todd Manning.

Jedediah dragged his bucket and mops and rags to the top floor of the Hospital and saw the doors to the lock-down ward. He had just checked with the supervisor on tonight and made like he was dying of curiosity, "I just want to see."

The supervisor winked and said, no problem, kid. Have at it. Jedediah carried his access card and punched in at the door. A buzzer sounded and he walked in.

First thing he noticed was that this floor didn't look much different from any of the other floors except the rooms had large windows to the hallway. There was a full-time nursing staff with orderlies, even at this late hour. He waved and they smiled back. He slid his wheeled bucket down the hall and looked at the numbers on the doors. 11. 10. 9. 8. 7. 6.

His heart rate started to speed up again and his palms were sweaty, but he stayed true. Room 5. Jedediah tried to look cool, glancing around to see if anyone was watching, finding it clear. A light was on in room 5. He peeked into the window.

He took a breath. He was looking at his father. Holy SHIT. Todd Manning.

The man with long golden-brown hair sat on the floor with his back against the bed. His head tilted forward onto his knees which were drawn up to his chest. His arms hugged his bent legs. Jedediah chewed his lip. He looked back at the nurse's counter, attendants still busy.

Jedediah studied the man in the room. Suddenly, he yelled something in frustration and Jed jumped a little. The person rubbed his face with his hands and rocked his head back on the bed behind him. He then stood up slowly. He was tall and lean and slightly… frightening.

Jedediah looked back again and still no one came. Todd's tee-shirt and sweats hung on him loosely. Both forearms heavily bandaged. Todd walked to the outside window and stared into the black for a long while. He turned around, all mystery and secrets. Stopped and looked directly at his uninvited observer through the window, clearly surprised at the intrusion.

Jedediah froze. Seeing that face from the laptop, but not as menacing as he recalled. He could see a trace of beauty his mother referred to. Those eyes and that mouth. The scar on his cheek though… Todd looked at Jedediah, squinting slightly, considering him. He looked at him for several long moments. He then deciding the intruder wasn't worth the energy and went to his bed. He lay down on his side, his back to the hallway window, his knees drawn up slightly. Jedediah took a breath and stepped back, knowing he had invaded Todd's privacy but jubilant anyway.

_My father…looked at me._

Just at that moment, he felt a hand on his shoulder and started. Michael smiled at him, "Don't you know it ain't polite to stare at people, especially these folks? This ain't a zoo, kid."

"I'm sorry, I...I was just surprised to see someone awake at this time..."

Michael eyed him a couple of seconds. "I was gonna check on him about that. Get a move on, yeah?" He smiled at Jedediah, encouraging, keenly aware that this janitor was very young. He should be sleeping comfortably in bed at this hour, he thought.

Jedediah took one last glance and pushed his bucket and mop and rags down the hall, on to clean the bathrooms, on to relish his discovery. Before he got far, however, he heard the door to room 5 open and couldn't help but take a few steps back to peek into the window again. He could hear Michael's deep voice and watched him talk to Todd who still lay on the bed.

Todd yelled, "Go away!" He waved his hand at Michael, trying to push him away, then said something else, but Jedediah couldn't hear what it was.

He then saw Michael squat to Todd's level and ask him something.

After a moment, Todd nodded, and Michael stood up and walked out of the room, catching the kid again. "I'm sorry, curiosity is killing me?" Jedediah offered this as his only excuse.

Michael shook his head, smiled slightly, and Jedediah decided to take advantage of his kindness. "So… what's wrong with him?"

_Please, please, give me a crumb._

Michael looked back through the window, wanting to offer information, wanting to offer a lesson to the curious cat in front of him. There was something about Jedediah that was immediately likeable and something… familiar. He didn't know what it was. Michael walked a ways down the hall with Jed beside him.

"Like a lot of other people, he's depressed and is havin' a hard time dealin' with that. He gets frustrated and can't sleep."

"Ok, I get depressed sometimes, dude, but I'm not locked up. Why is he here?" Michael narrowed his eyes at Jedediah.

"He violated probation and this was a better alternative than jail. Something I hope you will never be familiar with."

"You mean to tell me this guy's a criminal?" Jedediah's voice was light but the words hit him like a rock.

A pause. "Well, yeah, if a criminal is a guy who breaks laws and gets sent here by a judge. Look it ain't a big deal and it's really none of your business, now is it?"

Ok, Jed thought, not a big deal. I'm breaking laws right now. Maybe he didn't pay for parking tickets. Maybe a lot of parking tickets.

"I guess not." Jedediah smiled and raised his eyebrows. "So you gonna strap him to the bed?" Michael couldn't help but laugh.

"Kid, you watch too many movies. I'm gonna ask the nurse to get him some meds to help him sleep. He's willin' and we want him comfortable. So now, git."

"All right, all right, I get the picture." Jedediah gathered his things and headed to the bathrooms, content to be near Todd, content to mull over seeing him, finally. Jedediah was too enthralled, too amazed at his luck to really consider what he just witnessed. He was too surprised to recognize that he had glimpsed into someone's Hell.

* * *

Todd was entangled in the same old dream, he could tell. He saw himself put the telephone down and smile because Michelle was coming over to be with him, to have sex with him. To love him. He tidied the living room so it would be presentable. He loved her so much his heart hurt.

In the dream, he feels momentary panic thinking his father is going to come home, but remembers Peter said he was going to be late. The dream quickly deteriorates and Michelle is beneath him, writhing, moaning. He is breathing heavily, deep in between her wide-open legs, thrusting into her. Sometimes, the only sound he hears is his sexually excited breathing. He feels an approaching orgasm. And then, in a flash, he's on his stomach beneath Peter's weighty body, unable to move, unable to breathe, being strangled by Peter's arm wrapped around his neck, and then he realizes he's being raped.

The most disturbing part of the dream, though, the thing that always hurls him out of his sleep into his waking Hell: Todd is enjoying himself, feeling that same approaching orgasm.

Today was no different.

Michael's voice came through faintly, calling him away from the nightmare that had seized him once again in its grip.

"Todd, wake up! You're dreamin'! Come on, dude!"

From a place of half-sleep, he heard his own screams and felt his body thrashing on the bed, feet tangled in the sheets. Suddenly, he felt the headboard behind him, growing more awake, sweating, breathing hard. He immediately felt an erection and it disgusted him, confused him.

Michael tried to get his attention, "Todd! Hey!"

He thought he heard someone calling him, but couldn't make sense of it. Sounded like background noise, a television left on, a radio. He grabbed his crotch, grunting, his mouth pressed into a slash of upset. He then slammed his head against the headboard... because he didn't have any fuckin' cigarettes. Yeah, prior to his suicide attempt, Todd would have lit up with his fathers' lighter and burned his cock, his belly, all to warn Satan that he had control over his body and that he would win this battle.

Michael immediately held his head, "Stop! Don't do that!"

Enraged, he looked into Michael's eyes, fully aware now of where he was. His left hand curled into a fist and he abruptly swung, barely missing Michael who nimbly jumped away.

Todd growled, "Don't _fucking_ touch me!"

"I'm sorry, but I had to stop you!" Todd glared at Michael, shaking still from his nightmare, long hair in his face, practically growling. Michael couldn't help but see the caged creature from before.

"You ok? Want anything?"

"Just leave me alone … go tend other freaks ..." Todd snarled his words, blinking away his fear, calming down slightly. He didn't dislike Michael-in fact, he'd grown to rely on him a lot. He wasn't thrilled though about having the goon show up at the tail end of his gruesome obsession and finding him with a hard-on in his hand.

"I'll go when I see you're okay and that you won't hurt yourself. If you do, we'll have to restrain you for your own safety. Not to punish you but to protect you."

Having no choice but to surrender if he wanted privacy, he slid back into the bed, feeling hopeless. He continued to fight his compulsion to self-harm, a forceful desire. He didn't want restraints. He grumbled, "When's Doc coming in?"

Michael looked at his watch. "Usually comes in around eight. Want me to get him in earlier?"

Todd shook his head, closed his eyes. Relieved when he sensed the erection was gone.

Back to hell.

* * *

The river was loud and distracting, its darkness and hungry waters making it a strange place to find hope.

_Forgiveness._

He kept hearing the word and couldn't figure out who he was supposed to forgive. Peter? Satan? His mother? Oh yeah … himself. An impossibility – he'd be stuck in hell forever.

"You're to forgive yourself, your mother, Peter, Sam, all of them, none of them."

The spirit was suddenly on him, floating through him, under him, around him. He couldn't see her, but could feel her. He was keenly aware of a woodsy fragrance, green and clean. Pure. Innocent. I am none of those things, he thought. He crumpled into a heap, unable to walk further. The roar of the river continued to torment him, to tease him. Drowning would be so much better than this.

"And why is that, Little One?"

"I caused things ... to happen to me and to other people. I do that, it's what I do – I'm a creator of misery."

"You were a beautiful boy, bright-eyed and bubbly. That's your true essence. You give love easily and freely."

"You don't know what you're talking about. I was never like that - I cried too much and Peter kicked me. I ate too much and Peter took food away from me. I talked too much and Peter slapped me. I breathed too much air and he suffocated me."

Peter's laugh drifted upwards and wrapped itself around him, around his neck. Todd struggled for air, strangled by sounds and the memories.

The spirit intervened and loosened Satan's grip on him, admonishing Satan's brief escape from the lower depths of Hell. "Be gone!" Todd breathed in a sudden rush of air and rolled onto his back. There was no pain here. There wasn't any joy. There wasn't much of anything.

"Remember yourself as a child, remember your ability to love and to receive love. You must."

He looked up again and tried to remember his true self. It seemed a joke to him.

* * *

Tim looked through the window at Todd still sleeping, reading Michael's description of the nightmare in the daily log. It was about 7:30 a.m. The room was relatively dark, due to the rain clouds outside, stormy weather coming. He saw his patient moving and Tim opened the door, ready for an early session. Todd opened his eyes at the sound of the door and turned his head to watch the doctor as he approached him.

"Morning. Michael tells me you wanted to see me."

Tim sat in the chair next to the bed, Todd looking troubled. His patient nodded, curled in his bed, his eyes barely clearing the blankets. The doctor was knocked-off-his feet pleased that his patient reached out – a fantastic shift in dynamics.

"Wanna tell me about the nightmare?"

Todd shrugged a little and lifted his eyes to the doctor, not knowing quite where to start.

"Since we're dealing with a dream, why don't we try to break it down into pieces, make it not so frightening."

Todd glanced down below the covers at his folded arms. Kept hearing the voice that encouraged him to trust Tim, to rely on him, that he was Todd's way out of Hell. But he was terrified to give the nighttime images life, to bring to light his abhorrent, warped reaction.

After some moments, Todd scooted up and sat back against the headboard. Speaking just a hair above a whisper, he tried to explain.

"It's not just the dream ... something h-happens to me that ... I d-don't understand." Immediately Todd started to breathe heavier, the anxiety increasing, racing through his system. He hid his face behind his hands, feeling disgusted, sickened. Ready to abandon the hope for alleviation. "I can't s-say it." He started to cry, profoundly ashamed.

Tim leaned forward, reminding him that he was safe, "Remember, nothing you say bothers me. I'm not disturbed by _anything,_ Todd."

"I know, I know ... that doesn't help ... because it disturbs _me._" Todd sniffled, frustrated by his shame and inability to communicate the nightmare.

"Just tell me single words about your dream. I'll help you along - we can put it together."

Todd was shivering. Maybe, this way, maybe. He remained quiet for a minute, fighting his anxiety. Then, with a nod, a momentary pressing together of his lips, he said, "Michelle ... um ... under me." He whispered the last words, resting his head in his hands, unable to look at Tim. Rasped, "This isn't working."

"No, you're fine. Michelle's underneath you. Like in your flashbacks. You're kissing her? Right?"

"Yeah." He had more to go in this game of hide and seek where he was always the loser.

"Good, see? Where are you?"

"H-home."

"Keep going. You ok?"

"Yeah, yeah ... uh ..." His face suddenly looked like he was going to cry, "Tim." He looked at him, pleadingly.

Tim got closer to him, right at eye level. "It's okay. Remember, you're safe with me. I'm okay with this. How old are you in your dream? 14?"

Todd nodded.

"What happens next?"

Todd drew his legs up and wrapped his arms around his knees.

"Uh … under ... uhh ... him." Todd really started shaking again and breathing harder. "Oh God ..."

"You see the rape."

"Yeah." He continued to cry softly at the images he was remembering, taking the blankets and pulling them up around him.

"You're doing great. So first it's you and Michelle kissing and then you see what your father did to you." Tim had a feeling he knew where Todd was going based on Michael's report.

"Yeah ... uhh ... that's when I wake up ... and ... uhh ..."

"And ... you wake up with an erection or you've ejaculated."

Todd needed Tim to say it, because he couldn't say the words. He gritted his teeth and started rocking, comforting himself, hiding his face again, mortified. "Yeah ... yeah ... you gotta help me. I'm so sick. I think … I like what happened to me … I must have ... and that's really sick ..."

"Let's try to figure this out. Your physical reaction isn't a surprise and it's not what you think. Ok? It's not sick." Leaning in close to his patient, elbows on his knees, the doctor went on, "I'm going to try to explain it. Maybe you can help me. Fill in the blanks." Todd continued to rock himself, not looking at Tim, but offered the slightest of nods to the plan.

"First off, your dream about kissing Michelle is sexual. You're aroused from kissing her. That's normal. Then your dream changes at this point and you see yourself beneath 'him'."

Whimpering, Todd nodded.

"He's raping you, a very violent act. It's not a sexual act, Todd. But you know that, don't you?"

Todd stopped his self-comforting movements and just listened. He knew all too well that rape was not a sexual act. With these words, he started to drift away as images flashed across his mind, blood on the girl's cheek from his bitten lip, the girl's body jerking to get away, his hand covering her mouth and smothering her screams. He saw the gaudy orange print bedspread on which they lay with its repeating print of waving green palm trees on small sandy islands in front of a smoldering volcanic mountain. He then felt his own body trying to get away, heard his own muffled screams, tasted blood in his mouth from his tongue which he bit when he had been pushed down by Peter. He felt the heat of the fire in the fireplace. Shuddering at the images, his eyes having closed involuntarily, his breathing rate having increased, he tried to focus on Tim's voice. He listened hard to Tim explaining stuff. Didn't matter what was said, it was the voice Todd worked to grab onto.

Suddenly he gasped and his head shot up, his arms and legs jerking, as if he had just awoken from a dream.

"Todd?" Tim looked carefully at his patient who stared back at him, frightened. "Okay, you with me?"

He nodded and took a deep breath, calming himself. Tim smiled, seeing Todd had avoided a flashback by himself. "Good work at keeping in the present."

Todd sat for a few minutes, regaining himself, trying to get back to where they were. Then, he said softly, "Y-You were telling me a-about a rape ... being violent."

"Yes, it's a violent act. You want to talk about that dream of yours some more? You okay? We can stop for a while."

"No ... I wanna understand … explain..." He put his head down, drawing up his knees and wrapping his arms around them, waiting.

"All right. I think your body and brain are playing a rotten trick on you. Your body is still excited from your dream about Michelle, and it carries into the violent part of your dream. You were very young and this took place during an intense sexual period in your life. You were learning for the first time maybe, about the good things your body could do."

Todd shook his head, slowly, still recovering from his near-miss. A muffled voice argued.

"I knew a lot already. First time with a girl … but not …" He looked up, shame coloring his features.

There was more to this story, but the doctor dealt with the words at face value. "Yes, of course you knew certain things, but when you were with Michelle, you were learning these things about your body in a loving way, for the first time. It's natural that you go back to that. But of course, it coincided with something awful."

Todd shrugged, face still hidden.

"Now, a rape is a violent act, but your body may have had some natural reactions-"

"No! Not to THAT!" Todd threw his head up fiercely, ready to pounce Tim.

"Wait! Hear me out first! What I'm saying is that in your dream, you may be replacing sensations you felt with Michelle and fusing them into your memories about the rape. You see Michelle underneath you and then you are underneath your father. Do you see how you have made the scenes similar in you mind? You've merged them. So you feel excited about Michelle and then you feel the same about the rape - but you don't really! It's only a trick."

"Mmmm." He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. _Maybe, maybe._

"Now, listen. Just LISTEN. Your body is riddled with nerves and sensory triggers. Did you know that many people who've been raped experience orgasm? It doesn't mean they liked what happened to them. And I'm not saying that happened to you. I'm saying that a body will simply react to physical stimulation. So your body reacts to the stimulation of your dream, to Michelle. It doesn't matter the nature or motivation of the stimulation, it just happens and it's not always controllable."

Todd opened his eyes and looked at Tim's, something being triggered. His face changed as if he suddenly realized something. Seeing the change in his expression, the doctor decided to risk another example, one he was very sure of.

"Likewise, boys will get an erection even if fondled inappropriately by an abuser." Tim looked carefully at Todd. They had not discussed his childhood yet because Tim wanted his patient as stable as possible before exploring more of his past. Todd stared at his doctor, directly, deeply, without blinking. Aggrieved eyes.

"But you know that, Todd, don't you?"

Todd did not move, his eyes not leaving Tim's. Assent.

"Your father was a cruel man. He did terribly wrong things to you and you've been stuffing it away, shoveling the memories into a deep, deep pit. But like stubborn weeds, those memories grow and sprout, crawling their way to the surface until finally they break through. You can chop them away over and over but they keep coming back until you dig them out by the roots."

Looking down again, Todd rubbed his mouth with his hand, a distant look on his face. "I need water."

Tim handed him a cup that was on the table next to Todd's bed. Taking the cup, he drank too quickly and water spilled, the coldness dripping onto his lap. He yelped and jumped out of the bed, turning around to look. He stood staring at his bed, his eyes bouncing around, as if something were there. Tim got up and walked slowly to Todd who immediately put his hand out, warding Tim away.

"No, don't come close to me. I need to be here, I need to watch for him."

"Watch for who, Todd?"

"Peter ... I can feel him. He's coming to get me." Todd was starting to get agitated, visibly nervous and very defensive.

"No one is coming. Peter's not here - I won't let anything or anyone hurt you."

"He knows what happens to me with those dreams. He knows everything, _everything!_"

"Todd, the reaction is purely physical - it's not your fault that it happens."

"Oh no ... it's always my fault ... MY FAULT!" He hit his chest with a closed fist, the rage beginning to bubble over. He started to shiver once more and a low sound rolled out of his throat. He held his head in between his hands and began to breathe heavily. "My fault ... my fault."

Tim tried to get his attention, but he wasn't responding. "Todd, listen to me. It's not your fault. None of it is your fault."

"It's my fault ... not his. Not his ... not his fault. Mine." Tim stepped over to the intercom, not taking his eyes off of his patient and called for assistance. In seconds, two orderlies stepped into the room quietly while Tim walked over to Todd.

"No, Todd, it was your father's fault. PETER'S FAULT."

Abruptly, Todd lifted his head, his eyes black with fury, face consumed with hatred, an animal about to attack. The doctor took a couple of steps back. Todd growled and then suddenly yelled, "YOU BASTARD! YOU SICK BASTARD! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU FOR WHAT YOU DID TO ME!"

He bore down on the doctor, raging against the wrongs that had been done to him. He finally jumped at Tim, completely out of control, envisioning his father in Tim and trying to attack him. The doctor understood this. With the help of the orderlies, he was able to restrain him in a hold as Todd let loose, shrieking wordless sounds, fighting, writhing, kicking. Tim just held him tight in his arms, keeping him safe, saying, "Yeah, you tell him. Tell him how mad you are. How wrong, how unfair ..."

At Tim's direction, with great effort, the team got Todd into restraints on his bed, there being no choice. He screamed and thrashed against the straps in a hallucinatory hellish onslaught. It would last until he he couldn't do it any longer. No sedative because he had to release anger against his father if he was going to get better.

Tim sat down on the floor against the wall next to the door, mimicking his patient's favorite position. He listened to Todd's fury and pain, knowing he had a long way to go before he'd be done with the hate.

* * *

The view from the eightieth floor of the World Trade Center building in Chicago was incredible on clear days, when your head was unfettered and the path in front of you lay open, ready for the taking. Phillip Manning stared out the window at the gorgeous cityscape. His uncle Peter would be proud. He leaned back in his leather chair – one of those monstrous ones, heavy and black - hands behind his head, desk behind him, massive and imposing, as well. The office was large and sparsely furnished. He didn't need much; a phone, a computer, a few well-placed men with uzis to take care of any non-compliants.

Phillip sported a classical nose, eyes the color of coal, and slicked black hair that had a natural tendency to be spiky. High cheekbones attracted women and a strong chin made entrepreneurs take him seriously – he always maintained perfect skin, keeping a clean-shaven look. He never missed an appointment with a masseuse, a manicurist or the woman with the pink tattoo of a heart on her shoulder who gave him skin facials.

His eyes though, while appealing in shape, were unfeeling and cold. Dead eyes, someone once commented. _Fuck them, they don't know dead._ They attracted attention, he knew – his glare intimidated people into doing what he wanted them to. He'd smile and be charming, but he was the devil-incarnate with a rap-sheet evidencing it, with unreported crimes proving it.

A receptionist shuttled in a letter specially delivered from Fayetville, West Virginia. She carefully handed her employer the letter and walked out the door fast. Phillip tore open the express envelope and read quickly.

"No _fucking_ way."

Suddenly, he stood like a raging bull and swiped clean his desk of everything. A delicate glass vase, eternally empty, crashed against a side window and shattered. He stood over the desk, leaning on his hands, vowing vengeance.

He had loved Michelle in his own way. It was not his fault that she couldn't see his better qualities and refused to be with him. She deserved to die for that _and_ for loving that bastard who stole his family's fortune: that bastard, Todd Manning. And now he learned they had a child? The boy will have to die as well, then.

Jedediah Chant had to die.

**To be continued…. **


End file.
